


The Unleashing Of Dogs

by mikusgirlfriend



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Arranged Marriage, CEO Suh Youngho | Johnny, Class Differences, Complicated Relationships, Denial of Feelings, Dogs, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Hybrids, Implied Sexual Content, Laboratories, Love Confessions, M/M, Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Science Fiction, Secret Crush, Secret Relationship, Some Plot, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:48:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 40,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikusgirlfriend/pseuds/mikusgirlfriend
Summary: To Johnny, Ten is temptation; living, breathing temptation. Moving like a cat, soft and teasing, constantly urging Johnny to take the plunge. But looks can only deceive so much, for a dog will always be a dog.Mark thinks that if it were for Yukhei, he'd throw away his brother's company and the riches that come with it in a split second. He truly can't see anything wrong with that. Dogs are man's best friend, aren't they?And in the murky waters beyond the brothers' gazes, restless minds stray to dangerous territories, quiet wonders about freedom growing louder as time passes. Soon, both Ten and Yukhei will realise that no chain in the world can hold a rabid dog.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 42
Kudos: 110





	1. Lass die hunde los

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, the word hybrid is used, however not in the traditional wattpad sense. There are no animal parts involved, no humans with cat ears or tails. Please excuse any plot holes and / or inconsistent characters.
> 
> Chapter title from Tokio Hotel's Hunde:
> 
> "Lass die hunde los  
> Ich warn dich  
> Folg uns nicht"
> 
> Translation: 
> 
> "Let the dogs out  
> I warn you  
> Don't follow us"

There’s a certain bounce in Johnny’s steps, a little spring that only ever appears after he’s passed through the last door to the left in the basement corridor of his dad’s office building.  _ His _ future office building, as he likes to jokingly remind people when the subject is brought up (only, it’s just a half-joke: and the way his smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he says it is a testimony to just how badly he wishes to inherit his father’s company already). 

The rising excitement is a Pavlovian response to the thick steel door and the promise of what’s behind him, thrumming in his veins as he punches the security code in. The digital lock makes a beeping noise before the door swings open automatically, allowing Johnny to step inside. 

The room that greets him looks almost exactly the same as when he last visited, as well as when he first visited many years back. The walls are white and padded, giving it an uncanny resemblance to a cell in a mental institution, the floors are white and spotless and in a corner stands a small desk with a computer and a couple of medical screens. A couple of workers are buzzing around like bees, dressed in their obligatory white suits, nodding politely at Johnny in greeting but otherwise ignoring him. 

Johnny’s black loafers make his steps click quietly as he walks in, the automatic door closing and locking behind him. His crisp, dark suit, probably going for the same price as the whole lab, stands out like a sore thumb in the sterile environment, almost as much as the gigantic iron cage in the middle of the room. Contrasting the walls and floor that are so white they almost hurt Johnny’s eyes when the fluorescent lights reflect off the surfaces, it is dark, almost black, the inch-thick bars glinting dangerously like the jaws of a beast. Like on the beast inside Johnny thinks, stomach somersaulting in excitement when he sees the shapeless lump in the faraway corner of the cage, faintly rising and sinking when it breathes.

“Good day Mr. Seo” a familiar voice resonates and Johnny feels his mouth twitch, another Pavlovian response of sorts: he knows what’s about to go down when he hears that voice.

“Good day Doyoung” he says, nodding his head at the white-clad man before thrusting a thumb in the direction of the huge cage. “What have you got for me today?”

Doyoung clears his throat, flipping through the pages of his journal. 

“It’s not a lab product this time” he starts, making Johnny quirk an eyebrow, raising his hand to stop Doyoung. 

“Is it a stray?” he asks in disbelief. “Isn’t that… dangerous?”

Doyoung clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

“Well yes” he says, glaring at Johnny. “But naturally we’ve taken precautions. Shall we?”

He gestures towards the cage and Johnny nods, falling into step with Doyoung who’s walking to it. Doyoung has an urgency in the way he walks, talks, and acts in general. It’s like he always has somewhere to go, a report to write, a new subject to investigate. He’s been like that ever since Johnny first met him, when Johnny was 19 and Doyoung was 18. Johnny’s first impression had been that Doyoung was a little uptight and short-tempered, an impression that has remained fairly intact.

As they near the cage, the heap of limbs on the floor becomes bigger. Johnny whistles quietly as he leans close, face almost fitting in between the bars. 

“It’s muscular” he points out, appreciatively eyeing the bulging muscles. The sharp tone of Johnny’s whistling seems to have woken the creature up for it rouses, movements sluggish as if it’s scattering the mist of a drug-induced sleep. “Can it be used for guard dog purposes?”

Doyoung’s eye twitches. 

“You should probably step back sir” he says, voice bleeding with poorly veiled irritation. It’s something Johnny has always, in some twisted way, admired Doyoung for; no matter how high of a position Johnny holds as the heir to his father’s company, Doyoung will never sugarcoat his words when Johnny behaves in a way he thinks is idiotic. 

Johnny heeds his advice and backs off, frowning. 

“Why-” he starts asking, only to be answered when a loud bang makes the entire lab shake. Johnny jumps high in the air as the bars of the cage rattle, his head whipping to stare at the spot where he’d just been standing. 

The dog is up, grasping the bars and trying to break out with enthusiasm that is admirable considering the cage is built in solid iron. It’s snarling, teeth bared and saliva already frothing at the mouth. The eyes are wide, big and brown in a face that would be incredibly handsome if not twisted in an inhuman mask of rage. 

Johnny breathes deeply, willing his pounding heart to calm down as he stares into the face of the growling beast. Doyoung chuckles snidely at his superior’s misfortune. 

“He’s aggressive” Doyoung muses, still a gleeful glint in his eyes. “We suspect he's a victim of abuse. It would explain why he’s so distrusting and quick to… attack”

“It’s a harsh life” Johnny says, an absentminded hand rubbing his chest as his heart rate slowly goes back to normal. “He’s probably seen one thing or another”

Doyoung nods, looking down at his journal as he flips to a new page. 

“Probably” he agrees, eyes scanning the minuscule letters on the pages. “The only reason we could take him in was because he was sick when we found him. Some infection that weakened him significantly. Still fought like an animal”

“Well he is one” Johnny points out and Doyoung’s face drops. It’s a tiny change, the fleeting shadow of a fraction of an emotion, but Johnny knows Doyoung. He catches it. That minuscule look of disapproval. 

It irks him. 

“What?” he asks, annoyed because Doyoung knows exactly what he’s doing and he has no right to go all preacher on him. 

Doyoung snorts and looks away, pointedly staring at the animal behind bars. It has now given up barking at them and instead started moving around the cage, randomly lashing out to test its prison and whether or not it can hold him. 

“Nothing” Doyoung says calmly. “I just find that to be quite ironic considering your own pet”

Johnny feels himself flush with anger, a wave of shame coursing through his system at the mention of him. Shame because his first instinct is to slap Doyoung over the head, telling him that he’s not a pet. Something that would greatly contradict his earlier words and surely lead to some troublesome questions about his already peculiar relationship with his own dog. 

“Shut up” Johnny seethes, mentally taking back what he earlier thought about admiring Doyoung’s courage to defy him. He’s a goddamn nuisance. Doyoung just rolls his eyes. 

“Sure thing  _ boss _ ” he says, uttering the last word with a tint of irony. Doyoung knows that Johnny has yet to become his actual boss, and for as long as he can he’s going to take advantage of the fact that Johnny has no real power over him. “Anyway, moving on. We found him in an alley in the outskirts of Seoul, but he appears to be from China as he struggles with Korean but speaks and understands perfect Cantonese. He seems to have been living on the streets for a long time, I have no idea how he avoided being captured. My best guess would be that his good looks kept him from raising major suspicion but that’s just a speculation.”   
Johnny hums, observing the hound. It’s stopped pacing and resorted to standing in the very center of the cage, teeth still showing and drool dripping down his chin. His face is red and Johnny thinks that they’ve truly found a feisty one here. Most dogs spend the first weeks outside of the breeding area cowering in fear. The new one was brought in from the streets only days ago and he’s already ready to tear someone apart. 

Preferably me, Johnny presumes. At least based on the way he glares at Johnny with a wild, rabid fire dancing in his eyes. 

“Any diseases?” Johnny asks Doyoung. 

“Do you really think I’d introduce you if that were the case?” Doyoung asks, counters genuinely offended. “Of course he’s clean”

Johnny nods, choosing to once again let Doyoung’s rudeness slide. 

“And aggressive you say?” he confirms. “Does he listen to authoritative figures?”

Doyoung outright laughs at this. 

“Not a chance” he chuckles. “The only one he listens to is our intern, Huang Renjun. Somehow the boy’s won his trust. No idea how he did it, but the underlying point is that he can listen to and interact with humans. He’s just very selective with whom he grants that privilege”

Johnny doesn’t respond to this, understanding what Doyoung is trying to convey in his science language. Translated into business lingo, it means that this new asset is going to be hard to sell on the general market but it might still be worth a try since guard dogs are high in demand, especially the handsome, strong and pretty much feral ones. Johnny watches the asset in question, watches him glare back with an intensity that he very much respects. He’s got the fighting spirit. 

Johnny rubs his chin, feeling a spot of stubble that he must have missed this morning. The cogs are turning in his head. How do you make use of a dog that’s too feral to be sold to just anyone, but too valuable to throw back on the streets?

“Hey” he calls out, loud enough for Doyoung to understand that the words aren’t meant for him but for the beast. Its eyes narrow, a growl resonating low in its throat, revealing that Johnny has its attention. “What’s your name?”

At first, Johnny doesn’t think he will answer: he looks so angry, so beyond himself with rage. Then he opens his mouth and a deep, raspy voice drips from his lips. 

“Yukhei” he says. “Wong Yukhei”

Johnny nods in understanding. 

“Alright” he says. “I’ve got some good news for you Yukhei. If you can behave, you’ll soon trade this cage for a nice home where you can live comfortably and have all the food you want. How does that sound?”

The way Yukhei’s eyebrows furrow tells Johnny everything about how much he trusts the other’s words. Doyoung’s eyes widen.

“Don’t promise him things you can’t keep” he hisses but Johnny just grins at him. 

“Oh I can keep that one” he says confidently. “I’m not going to put him on the general market”

Doyoung stares questioningly at Johnny, waiting for him to continue. 

“I’m going to give him to Mark”

~

“How did it go? Anything of interest?”

Ten is on Johnny the second he steps inside the room, closing the door behind him and loosening his tie. Johnny doesn’t respond at first, opting to shrug his suit jacket off, throwing it on his desk by the big window. The view is magnificent, as the room is placed on the highest floor on the top level. Anything else for a future corporation owner would be next to unacceptable. The only place Johnny visits that’s even close to ground level is the laboratory, but it’s situated underground where the pollution levels are almost the same as on the higher levels. 

“I think I’ve found Mark a new guard dog” Johnny responds before turning to Ten. The young man is lying draped across Johnny’s huge bed, clad in a black satin-robe. The sash is tied tightly around his narrow waist, a gold embroidery depicting a dragon on the back. The robe only reaches mid-thigh and the way it’s ridden up to reveal far more should be skimpy, cheap, however on Ten it’s anything but. He looks delicious,  _ royal _ , his black hair messy and his narrow eyes still framed by the remnants of yesterday’s makeup. It’s two PM and he still hasn’t gotten out of bed. 

At Johnny’s revelation he sits up a little straighter, disentangling the sheets from his legs. 

“Is that so?” he asks, voice now containing a grain of faint interest. Johnny knows that Ten doesn’t actually care about his business and just asks out of politeness, but his soft spot for Johnny’s brother is genuine. “What made this one different?”

Johnny hears the underlying ’what makes you think this one can replace the old one?’ in the question. He opens the clasp on his watch, sliding a regular person’s yearly salary off his wrist and haphazardly throwing it on his desk.

“It’s a stray” Johnny says easily, crouching down by his minibar to get a bottle of whisky. He can practically hear the way Ten scrunches up his face at the sight of the offensive liquor: Ten is a baby who prefers his drinks so fruity and sweet that you can barely even taste the alcohol. “He seems to have suffered some sort of human-related trauma. Either way, he’s too aggressive and too selective with who he trusts to be sold on the regular market and I don’t want to waste his potential”

Johnny watches the amber-coloured liquid fill one of his crystal-glasses and briefly mourns the lack of ice cubes. He’s way too lazy to go to the kitchen and get ice, since it’s two floors below the Seo-Lee residence floor, and calling room-service is also too much of a hassle. A tiny voice in Johnny’s head that sounds suspiciously much like Doyoung, whispers that he should ask Ten to get it for him. Make use of the very reason he kept him. 

Johnny pushes the voice aside, deciding that ice isn’t that important anyway.

“I thought you didn’t take in strays?” Ten says, and Johnny hears the soft rustle of bed sheets as the other slides off the mattress, his bare feet padding quietly against the heated mahogany floorboards. “Against your guidelines and all of that”

He stands behind Johnny, lithe fingers gently placing themselves on a broad shoulder. Johnny can feel the heat of his hands through the thin cotton fabric of his dress shirt, and beyond that the faint heat radiating from Ten’s body, a little too close to Johnny’s. He smells of the perfume Johnny got him for his birthday-of-sorts, a sweet scent with a metallic undertone, reminding Johnny of days he never experienced, days where technological advances were thought to be the saving grace of humanity. 

“It is” Johnny agrees. “But he was too strong and fearless to just be left where he was. If he can connect with Mark, he’ll be the perfect guard dog”

Ten nods in understanding, his hair tickling Johnny’s face as his head moves up and down. 

“It’s definitely cheaper than laboratory-breeding a new one” he muses and something about his words grate uncomfortably against Johnny’s conscience. Even though he’s absolutely right, they rub Johnny the wrong way, chafing against something he can’t pinpoint. 

“Have you had breakfast yet?” he asks in an attempt to redirect the conversation to safer topics. Ten scoffs in response, a finger digging into Johnny’s cheek. 

“Do I look like I’ve had breakfast yet?” he playfully asks as Johnny swats his hand away with a chuckle. It drifts back to its place on Johnny’s shoulder, this time with a miniscule rubbing motion. “I’ve barely gotten out of bed. No coffee in my body, haven’t even had a smoke yet” Johnny frowns, twisting his head to look at Ten. Their proximity makes his breath catch in his throat for a moment, choking him at the sight of Ten’s face so close to him. He hurries to regain composure.

“Better keep it that way” he grumbles, attempting to appear stern. “You know I don’t like it when you smoke”

Ten rolls his eyes so far back that Johnny almost worries they’ve gotten stuck for a split second. 

“Don’t tell me what to do” he says childishly and sticks his tongue out, the hand on Johnny’s shoulder skirting towards his neck. “You know I won’t listen anyway”

“True” Johnny agrees, distracted by the way Ten’s hand is now resting at his nape, rubbing provocative circles into the skin just above the collar of his shirt. It’s dangerously close to playing with Johnny’s hair, and the action sends shivers down his spine. 

Ten’s always been like that: physical to the point where it borders invasion of personal space, the younger man seemingly lacking any form of understanding of what space is appropriate to keep between two people with their relationship. From when Johnny first met him upon his first trip to the lab, six years ago, he’s always had a tendency to get a little closer than Johnny would consider unproblematic. But lately, the closeness has seemingly tenfolded, going from just being in Johnny’s space to actively seeking out his touch. 

It’s frustrating, because Johnny hates lying to himself about the obvious. He’s 25, he’s an adult. He’s reached the age where one just sucks up the truth and accepts it when it becomes too obvious. But like in so many other situations, Ten is the exception. 

How can he?

How can he possibly accept that he likes the closeness he has with Ten? It just doesn’t work. He’s the son of a CEO. He  _ owns _ Ten. He can’t afford to make things complicated. 

Not now, not ever. 

“Hey, earth to Johnny”

A palm cups Johnny’s face, warm and dry against his jawbone. Ten tilts his face so he’s looking into his eyes, cat-like eyes where a spark of mirth is dancing. It’s ironic how cat-like Ten is, Johnny thinks dazedly, when he’s as far from a cat as one can be. 

“You’re zoning out  _ darling _ ” he says and Johnny curses the way the last word is so tinted with sarcasm. “I tried to ask you if we should eat breakfast together but you didn’t even hear me”

He pouts and Johnny snorts. 

“You’re an attention whore” he points out, sparking a small laugh from Ten. 

“Tell me about it” he grins before slithering away from Johnny, taking his warmth with him. He walks towards the door, hips swaying in that peculiarly feline manner of his. His feet are still naked and Johnny thanks the gods for installing heated floors on the higher levels. Ten turns around to coyly look at Johnny. The sash to his silky robe has come undone a bit, making the neckline wider and revealing a decent sliver of his chest. The skin is unblemished and hairless, expected for someone who was made after a recipe but mesmerizing all the same. 

“Are you coming?” he asks, voice dipping into a provocative, almost sultry tone. 

Johnny shakes his head, trying to rid himself of any troublesome thoughts. 

“Yeah” he says before attempting to lighten the mood with a joke. “Your wallet is coming”

Ten throws his head back and laughs, Johnny’s plan backfiring as the weight on his chest becomes heavier. Ten walks out of the room and Johnny follows, cursing that his mind keeps straying to such dangerous territory.

A dog is still a dog, and no matter how cat-like it behaves, that’s all it will ever be. 

~

Johnny never fails to notice the slight twist of discomfort in Mark’s features when they enter the last door to the left in the biggest corridor on the basement floor. Unlike Johnny, who views it as part of the work he can’t wait to take over, Mark still finds it alien and faraway. He shares none of Johnny’s excitement when they talk about or look at dogs, which plays into why he still hasn’t gotten a new guard dog, despite Jeno being out of the picture since well over a year. 

If anything, Mark seems to prefer avoiding the subject as far as he can, opting to talk about anything between the sky and sea except for hounds. The white walls of the laboratory, so familiar to Johnny, makes Mark twitch anxiously, his eyes skirting between the robe-clad staff that scurries around the room like they always do. As guilty as he feels about it, Johnny supposes it’s good that he’s the heir: in the business world, no company can survive if the CEO would rather pretend the products they distribute don’t exist. 

The sight of the cage, and Yukhei pacing around it, makes Mark pale to such a degree that it’s comical. Johnny has to suffocate a chuckle at the way Mark’s already big eyes widen even further, a gazillion emotions swirling in them. As they walk further into the room, Yukhei freezes, nostrils fluttering for a few moments. Then, as if the strange scent was what ticked him off, he turns his head and stares at them. 

More specifically at Mark. Johnny doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but Mark looks like he’s about to piss himself and while it as a CEO is not very professional to find it amusing, Johnny is first and foremost Mark’s brother. And as a brother, it would be criminal to not snicker at least a little bit at the sight. 

“Good day Mr. Seo” Doyoung says as he materialises seemingly out of thin air. He turns to Mark, bowing lightly to him. “Mr. Lee”

“Hello Doyoung” Johnny greets back easily, while Mark waves awkwardly. “I’m here to take another look at the latest asset. As well as let Mark get acquainted with his birthday gift”

Doyoung clears his throat. 

“Right” he says, and Johnny feels that little stab of irritation that he feels when he senses he’s said something the younger disapproves of but he can’t quite figure out what. “Yukhei is over in his cage. Mark go talk to him or something. I’d like to speak to you Johnny”

Johnny shoos his brother away. 

“You heard him” he says, even though Mark’s eyes scream ‘help me’. “Go play with Yukhei”   
Yukhei chooses that moment to growl, canines glinting white and dripping with saliva in the harsh light of the fluorescent lamps. Mark looks ready to faint but obides his brother either way. Probably mainly because he knows the older won’t stop nagging him about getting a new guard dog until he gets one.    
Johnny watches his younger brother waddle away towards the cage. He’s so small, so skinny, defenseless in a way that awakens a fierce urge to protect in him. 

“What did you want to speak to me about?” he asks as he turns to Doyoung. “Or was it just a ploy to get Mark to bond with Yukhei?”

Doyoung scoffs, as if that’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. 

“No” he says, producing a file of documents out of nowhere. One day, Johnny would like to ask him if Doyoung is an aspiring magician or if he’s just incredibly good at hiding things. “I’ve discovered some… let’s say unconventional things about Yukhei”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, a silent inquiry for Doyoung to continue. The young scientist pushes his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. 

“I went over his genetic codes the other day” he starts, pointing at a series of numbers and letters printed on the paper in his hand. Johnny nods and pretends to understand even though it just looks like gibberish to him. “And it looks like he isn’t laboratory-bred”

Johnny frowns.

“I’m not following” he says. “Didn’t we already know that? I mean, he’s a stray”

Doyoung clicks his tongue. 

“Not like that” he says. “I don’t mean that he wasn’t bred in our laboratory. I mean he wasn’t bred in a laboratory to begin with. He’s not been designed in scientific ways. He’s the result of sexual reproduction”

Now this catches Johnny’s attention. While dogs having that kind of offspring is not entirely unheard of, it’s rare and harsh precautions are usually taken against it since it’s illegal in most countries. A sexually bred hybrid is not only a security breach but a serious violation of rules. Company rules as well as national laws. 

“That’s a very serious accusation” Johnny says, frowning. “What makes you think that way?”

Doyoung waves the files in Johnny’s face. 

“His genetics don’t add up” he says simply. “He’s aggressive, which is usually a trait favourable among military hounds, but he’s also emotional which is a trait commonly found among companion dogs. He’s strong and has violent tendencies, but he’s also gullible and naive, although I’m guessing that last trait has been erased due to the harsh life he’s lived on the lower levels.”

Doyoung shakes his head. 

“There are countless examples” he states. “Not to mention his genetic codes are scrambled. On lab-bred hybrids they’re arranged in rows because that makes them far easier to read”

Johnny hums to himself, watching his brother interact with the beast. Mark is standing by the cage, talking to Yukhei. At the distance, Johnny cannot distinguish the words being exchanged, but he can tell Mark’s posture has relaxed, and Yukhei is no longer growling. He still looks sceptical and on edge, but less so than before. Mark has a hand curled around a thick iron bar, face slotted in a gap. It’s a dangerous spot, but Yukhei makes no move to attack Mark and Johnny allows himself to hope that maybe, maybe Mark can finally accept a new guard dog. 

“It’s bad enough that we’ve taken a stray in” Johnny muses out loud. “But this… this isn’t just against company policy anymore: it’s a crime”

“Not to mention he’s unpredictable” Doyoung adds. “He doesn’t follow the usual formula. We don’t know how someone like him might act. He’s a defect of sorts…”

Doyoung glances at Johnny, looking like he’s debating continuing before deciding to push his luck. 

“Kind of like-”

“If I were you” Johnny interrupts Doyoung with a silky voice, eyeing him with all the authority he can muster. “I’d stop right there”

Doyoung listens to Johnny for once, but there’s a spark of glee in his eyes. As if the response he triggered was what he searched for. Johnny hates that feeling, the feeling that he played right into Doyoung’s hands.

“As you wish sir” he relents, somehow making it sound like he’s not actually the one relenting. “I hope you’re aware that while it’s not technically a crime to simply house a hybrid like that, it would look very bad for the company image if the news were to get out”

Doyoung turns to look at Mark and Yukhei and Johnny follows his gaze.

“Are you willing to take that risk?”

Johnny watches Mark tentatively stretch a hand inside the cage. His heart seizes in his chest, recalling the way Yukhei had snarled and barked at him a couple of days ago, but Yukhei makes no move to hurt Mark. Instead he sniffs the boy’s hand, bumping his nose into his palm and knuckles. It’s indeed an odd sight.

“Maybe” Johnny says. “Excuse me for a moment”

With smooth strides he crosses the room, loafers clicking with every step. Mark looks significantly more relaxed now than he did earlier, watching Yukhei with rapt fascination rather than fear and anxiety. Yukhei is still as rigid as a piece of wood, every muscle in his body tense as if he’s constantly ready to attack, but his face has softened and his big eyes observe Mark with something akin to genuine interest. 

“How do you like it?” Johnny asks Mark as he gets closer. Mark flinches a little, surprised by Johnny’s sudden appearance. Yukhei’s soft expression vanishes, replaced by a hard mask of indifference. 

“Oh” Mark says, looking back at Yukhei. “I… he seems nice”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, watching how Mark reaches in between the bars to pat Yukhei on the head. His fingers gently brush over Yukhei’s wild, tangled hair, petting him with a tenderness that seems malplaced in the environment they’re in. Yukhei’s eyes widen to a size that looks borderline biologically impossible, seemingly beyond shocked at the gentle treatment. 

“He’s cute” Mark decides, scratching the hybrid behind his ear. Yukhei’ eyelids flutter for a split second, his shoulder slouching before he pulls himself together, regaining his stiff posture. 

“He’s not supposed to be cute Mark” Johnny reminds his brother. “It’s a guard dog. He’s supposed to be fearless and strong”

A tiny wrinkle appears between Mark’s eyebrows.

“His name is Yukhei” he counters with an unreadable voice. “Just so you know”

Johnny nods, biting back an ‘I know’.

“I want to stay with him”

Yukhei’s words almost make Johnny jump a little, his deep mighty voice unexpected despite him physically towering over Mark. He’s one of those hybrids of few words, like most of his kind: guard dogs are significantly less talkative than companion dogs and hunters, but it seems like he at least chooses to speak when he really feels that it’s necessary. 

“Your opinion on this matter is unneeded unless Mark decides he wants you” Johnny says coldly without sparing Yukhei a glance. It’s rude, unnecessarily so, but Johnny really cannot afford to hit any bumps in the road right now. Jeno was a pretty major speed bump, mainly for Mark but anything that concerns Mark automatically concerns Johnny too. Johnny puts a hand on Mark’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Do you want him?”   
Mark doesn’t look at Johnny, opting to instead gaze at Yukhei, head tilted upwards since Yukhei is almost a head taller. 

“Yeah” he mumbles. “If he wants me then… then I want him”

And Johnny pushes away that little nagging voice that tells him this already smells like trouble, mentally preparing himself for how he’s going to break it to Doyoung that from hereon, the younger brother of Lee Incorporate’s heir is going to be housing a very illegally bred guard dog.

Johnny can already feel the oncoming headache.

~

If Johnny could pick his top three comfort smells, one of them would definitely be the smell of Thai food invading his nostrils when he enters his apartment. 

In the dark of the hallway, he stops for a moment, closing his eyes and just breathing in the scent of home and Ten. He’d rather die than let Ten know how much he misses the younger during the days he’s off to work trips, and if he can quietly and privately soak in the fact that he’s back then he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take that chance. 

Johnny leans down to take his shoes off, throwing his briefcase on the floor. It gives off a grating sound as it lands on a piece of gravel and Johnny smiles to himself because of course Ten couldn’t be bothered to clean while he was away. It’d be unlike him, to do something so boring and troublesome just because he’s expected to. Johnny loves that part of him, is crazy about the fact that Ten will never ever bow down to anyone’s expectations of him. 

Johnny smells cigarette smoke blending with the scent of food before he hears Ten approaching. His footsteps are too light, drowned out by the faint sound of food sizzling on the stove. 

“Welcome home darling”

Johnny mentally goes through a shallow breathing exercise. The once so sparingly used joke has found its way into almost every conversation, and while it’s still as sarcastic as ever, its frequent appearance has taken a toll on Johnny’s heart and general health. 

“Thank you” Johnny says, straightening up to kick his shoes off. Ten is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway, leaning on the doorframe like he’s posing for a magazine. His black hair is falling into his eyes, face bare from makeup, an ankle crossed over the other. He’s wearing an oversized T-shirt that, much like his beloved satin robes, does little to cover his modesty. A cigarette is perched in his hand, the cherry glowing bright red in the darkness, a plume of smoke rising from it. Johnny almost regrets installing smoke detectors that could tell the difference between cigarette smoke and regular smoke because ever since, Ten smoking indoors has been a regular occurence. Key word being almost, because the way Ten’s lips curve around the cigarette makes up for the inevitable lung cancer the two will be battling together.

Johnny fights the urge to let his eyes slide down to the place where the T-shirt has slipped down, revealing a shoulder and a good peak at Ten’s collarbone, and instead walks up to him. He tries to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, not on the way Ten’s thighs curve so perfectly in the faint light. Johnny must be more tired and worn out from travelling than he first thought, because he can’t find his usual guardedness in regards to his thoughts about Ten. He has enough presence of mind to keep himself from doing anything inappropriate, but not enough to deny that he  _ wants _ to do something inappropriate. 

“Tired?” Ten asks, tapping his cigarette into an ashtray before taking another drag. He shakes his bangs out of his eyes, licking his lips as smoke spills from them.

Johnny nods before wordlessly turning around, stretching his arms out. Ten scoffs but seems to be getting the gist. 

“You’re such a baby” he mumbles, voice a lot closer than before. His words are muffled and a little mixed up, and the smell of cigarettes is right in Johnny's face now. Johnny guesses Ten must have his cigarette clamped between his lips to keep his hands free as he slides Johnny’s suit jacket off him. Johnny takes the moment to secretly relish in the closeness between them. “Did you get any fancy business stuff done?”

Johnny laughs quietly, turning around as Ten hangs his jacket up on a coat hanger. 

“You don’t care” he says, amused. “But I appreciate you for asking”

“I do care” Ten argues, taking the cigarette from his mouth once the suit is out of harm’s way. “If it results in you buying me another set of skimpy silk robes”

Johnny rolls his eyes at Tens cheekiness. 

“You’re shameless” he points out, walking into the kitchen to see what Ten is cooking. 

“Stating the obvious as usual” Ten says behind him as Johnny bends down to smell the colourful stew that’s boiling on the stove. Ten wasn’t actually born or raised in Thailand, but since his genes have Thai origin the younger has taken an interest to Thai culture and cuisine, using his spare time the days Johnny is away to learn more about the country he’s supposed to be from. “Smells good doesn’t it?”

“I hate inflating your ego” Johnny says “but it smells absolutely heavenly. I’m starving”

Ten grins, squashing his cigarette in the ashtray before emptying it in the small bin-like square in the counter. It leads to an incinerator that works 24 hours a day, burning any and all waste from the Seo residence. 

”I know” he says. “You always are when you come back from a business trip”

Johnny nods, grabbing a plate Ten has placed on the table only to be stopped. 

“Let me serve you” Ten offers as an explanation, shooing Johnny off. Johnny laughs in partial disbelief before getting seated. It’s unlike Ten to be acting this way, playing the perfect housewife, but it’s sort of nice. Not that Johnny would want Ten to change of course, but once in a while never hurt anybody.

Johnny glances at Ten as he fills Johnny’s plate with food, his eyes straying from the safe, shirt-covered areas to his long, naked legs, watching the way the ceiling lights highlight his smooth skin. It’s no secret that Ten is pretty, and Johnny swallows the lump of guilt that wells up in his throat at how completely and utterly despicable it is of him to look at someone in Ten’s position in this way. He knows, he recognises how awful it is, and yet he can’t stop. He’s tired, worn out, finished, and in this unguarded moment he can’t will his eyes away from Ten and everything about him. 

“Stare more and I’ll have to charge you sweetheart” Ten says without looking back, pouring some sort of sauce over the meal he’s prepared for Johnny. Johnny reddens and decides that pouring himself a glass of nice, red wine is a sufficient distraction from his own embarrassment.

“Wasn’t staring” he denies and is rewarded by a chuckle from Ten. 

“You shouldn’t have picked black glazed tiles for your kitchen if you wanted to get away with that kind of stuff” Ten points out and Johnny looks up only to be met by his reflection, very much looking right back at him from the surface of the black, glazed tiles decorating the wall. 

“Fuck you” Johnny says, because he can’t come up with anything else. He tilts the wine bottle, watching with utmost satisfaction how the ruby-coloured liquid fills the glass. “Speaking of nothing, you’re free next Saturday, right?”

It’s a dumb question, but Johnny really doesn’t know how to broach the subject in any other way.

“I’m always free” Ten laughs. “Unless lounging in your apartment counts as being occupied”

Johnny licks his lips, studying his distorted reflection in a spoon. 

“Right” he says. “There’s this gala I’m supposed to attend and I thought you could be my plus one”

“Wouldn’t you rather go with someone else?” Ten asks in genuine curiosity, placing Johnny’s plate in front of him and grabbing his own. Johnny closes his eyes to inhale the delicious scent of home cooked Thai food. 

“It’s one of the boring galas” he says. “I’d rather go with someone who knows how to entertain me an entire night”

Ten laughs one of his stupidly loud laughs that booms through the entire kitchen. 

“I see” he says and Johnny can hear the amused smile in his voice. “Well darling, I’d love to”

Johnny clears his throat and grabs his eating utensils, getting ready to dig in. Looking at the meal prepared for him, Johnny doesn’t know if he loves or hates the fact that it’s perfectly tailored to his taste. Down to every little vegetable, everything is exactly how he likes it, the realisation odd and not entirely comfortable. 

Ten knows every little detail about him, and Johnny really doesn’t know what to do about that anymore.

~

Mark supposes it should worry him how fast he gets used to Yukhei’s antics. How easy it is to just adapt to a new person living with him. 

Mark has always been a private person: unlike his brother, who is lonely because he has allowed his work to sneak into every nook and cranny of his life, Mark simply is an introverted person. It’s less about not wanting friends, and more about being a little too anxious to go through the actual process of getting to know them. Mark doesn’t know if the reason he feels so comfortable with Yukhei is because of the by default strange situation they’re in or if it’s something about Yukhei himself. 

Walking into the kitchen in the morning, he isn’t even mildly surprised to find Yukhei in a fierce staring competition with his toaster, his entire body tense and ready to pounce. 

“Good morning” Mark yawns and Yukhei grunts back without looking away from the silvery box. Mark snorts and opens the refrigerator to take out a carton of milk. “The toaster is not going to attack you if you look away”

Yukhei tears his gaze away from it to look at Mark with eyes narrowed in disbelief. 

“It might explode” he says with such conviction that Mark has to smile, before turning back to it.

“Have you never seen a toaster before?” Mark asks, recalling the way he’d recoiled at the sight of it when he’d first entered Mark’s apartment.

“I have” Yukhei says. “But that was after it had been made into a makeshift hand grenade”

Mark freezes. 

“A what?”

“A hand grenade” Yukhei repeats as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

Mark stares at him, suddenly understanding his mistrust towards toasters all the more. 

“How do you even do that?” Mark wonders, almost a little impressed. Yukhei shrugs in response. 

“I don’t know” he says. “It’s not uncommon on the base levels, to make weapons of whatever junk you can find.”

Mark nods, pouring milk into a mug. 

“I see” he mutters, placing his mug in his coffee maker. Johnny got it for him last christmas, and it’s quite a practical thing. After closing the lid on the coffee mug, the machine starts with a whirring noise, heating up and skimming the milk before adding two shots of espresso. Like many of the things in Mark’s apartment, Yukhei refuses to touch it, glancing at it with thinly veiled suspicion everytime he walks past it. 

Living with Yukhei is easy: just like how Mark quickly gets used to his antics, he also quickly gets used to sharing his living space with another being. He’s lived alone for quite some time, ever since… 

Whatever.

You get used to it after a while, living on your own. Readaptation has come surprisingly quick and easy this time. 

The lid to the coffee maker opens and Mark reaches inside to take his mug, now filled with a perfect latte with creamy foam. He takes a sip of it, frowning at how hot it is. Almost so that he burns his tongue.

“Hey can I ask you something?”

Mark hums in response, blowing at his coffee to cool it down to a drinkable temperature. 

“I’m supposed to be your guard dog, right?” Yukhei starts and Mark frowns, holding up a hand to stop him. 

“Please don’t use that word” Mark mutters, words muffled by the edge of the cup that he’s sucking at. “You’re not a dog”

The way Yukhei stiffens up in absolute shock and confusion makes Mark’s heart hurt. It looks like a lot like this is the first time someone says that to him and that realisation stings. 

“Then… what am I?” Yukhei asks slowly, tentatively. 

Mark thinks for a second. Technically, Yukhei is a hybrid and most people call them dogs. It’s just, the word doesn’t sit right with Mark. Not at all. 

“A bodyguard?” Mark proposes and for a moment Yukhei is just gaping, at a complete loss of words. Then his face splits in a grin so big and bright and puppy-like that Mark can almost see the metaphorical tail wagging behind him. 

“Okay” he agrees eagerly. “I’m your bodyguard”

Mark nods, unable to resist smiling back. 

“Absolutely” he says, fingers itching to scratch Yukhei behind the ears. “Now, what were you saying”

“Right” Yukhei says, sobering up. “If I’m you… your bodyguard, then how come I sleep on the other side of the apartment?” 

Yukhei pauses but he must read in Mark’s confused expression that he’s not following because he tries to elaborate. 

“If anyone were to target you it’d most likely happen during the night when you’re vulnerable and unguarded” he explains, hands waving around in big motions. “Running from my room to yours takes 20 seconds. A 20 second lead can be fatal, it’s more than enough to just disappear into the night. It simply makes no sense”

Mark nods, because everything Yukhei says is completely valid. It’s not like he actually thinks anyone is going to target him since he’s only an heir on the paper, but there’s always a risk. Lee Incorporate is a company that due to some of Mark’s father’s sketchy businesses has become a bit tangled up in some places. 

“That is true” he says, gulping down some of the bitter liquid in his cup. “So what do you suggest we do about it?”

“I move into your room” Yukhei says and Mark chokes on his coffee. Yukhei looks concerned when Mark keeps coughing like an idiot until his eyes go watery, and he punches him in the back to help clear his throat. Unfortunately, Yukhei is a lot stronger than Mark and miscalculates the amount of force needed, accidentally making Mark’s knees buckle and almost sending him to the floor. 

“I’m sorry” Mark croaks out once the coffee is finally out of his airways. “Are you… do you mean like… sleep there? With me?”

Yukhei looks at Mark like he’s the weird one, as if suggesting to sleep in the same bed as your owner is completely normal (there are obviously dogs used, or rather abused, for that purpose but that’s a whole different story).

“I was thinking I’d sleep on the floor” Yukhei says and Mark feels so dumb and so embarrassed because of course Yukhei wouldn’t want to sleep in the same fucking bed as him. He must have made such a fool out of himself. 

“But if you’d rather I sleep in bed with you then that’s fine with me” 

Mark opens his mouth to say that absolutely no, that’s not what he meant. That he can fix a mattress or a bed for Yukhei in his room. That Yukhei really doesn’t have to sleep on the floor, but that he totally doesn’t need him to sleep in the same goddamn bed. 

But then once again, Yukhei looks at him with such genuine curiosity. As if it’s a normal question and that no answer could be the wrong one. As if he truly doesn’t care about the answer, no matter how weird it is. His eyes are so big, it makes Mark a little dizzy to look into them. They seem to suck him in, consume his soul with all their might.

Mark opens his mouth.

“Yeah” he breathes, heart thumping so fast and hard that it hurts. “I’d… I’d feel safer that way”

Yukhei nods and then smiles at Mark. 

“Nice” he says, grinning stupidly. “I’m a great cuddler too, in case you ever have a nightmare”

Mark promptly pulls down another lungful of coffee in his trachea. 

His lungs can’t seem to get a break today. 

~

Ten thinks that if the venue only were a little cooler the evening would have been amazing. 

There’s expensive alcohol, fancy canapés and men and women dressed in fabulous suits and expensive dresses. A shame that it’s just a little too hot, making Ten’s robes stick to his sweaty skin. 

Ten mouths at the edge of his champagne glass, watching the way one particular woman’s dress, made of something that looks like sparkling plastic wrap, glitters in the warm light from the chandeliers. He steals another glance at Johnny, shamelessly ogling the company heir as he holds conversation with some potential investor. Ten doesn’t spare her a second of his attention, opting to appreciatively admire the way Johnny’s shirt stretches over his muscles instead. 

Johnny has, the night in honour, chosen a timeless crisp suit of some Italian brand Ten can’t pronounce. It isn’t very modern, but the laid back look almost makes him stand out the most in the whole room. The only eye-catching aspect of Johnny’s outfit is his tie, a black one with silver threads weaved into the silk fabric, making it glitter like stars on a midnight sky. Ten matches with a black velvet collar strewn with little diamonds, fitted snugly around his neck. 

Ten has gone for a sultrier look than Johnny, partly because he likes it and partly because he can. He’s not someone important, he doesn’t need to dress like he’s on his way to a business meeting. 

Which, essentially, what this whole gala is a disguise for. But those are semantics.

Ten is wearing a pair of jet black, tight pants and a black blouse with a V-shaped neckline that borders on inappropriate, showing off his collarbones. It’s not enough for Johnny to tell him to change (like the time he tried to attend a similar gala dressed in fishnets) but it is enough for the older’s gaze to occasionally slip from Ten’s face.

It’s exhilarating, knowing Ten has that kind of control over Johnny. If there’s one thing Ten absolutely loves,  _ adores _ , above all else, it’s to push the limit. He loves it more than alcohol, more than expensive clothing, more than satin robes, fancy desserts and exquisite makeup combined. That very specific thrill that comes with knowing that you just took something a step too far, that he just overstepped an unspoken boundary. 

That tingle that comes with knowing he just got under Johnny’s skin, wondering what he’s going to do about it.    
Ten is neither blind nor dumb. He knows that he affects Johnny. Knows that his closeness makes his breath stutter, that his slutty outfits make eyes wander. He knows that he affects Johnny in the same way Johnny affects him, only Ten is leagues better at hiding it. 

Ten is broken out of his reverie by the chain attached to his collar, a bedazzled silver one, rattling. His eyes flicker over to Johnny, finding that the investor has left Johnny’s side.

“Did it go well?” Ten asks, not because he cares about company business but because he knows it matters to Johnny and everything that’s important to Johnny is also important to Ten.

Johnny shrugs.

“I think so” he says, snatching a canapé from a passing tray. “She was definitely impressed by you. Said she’d never seen a dog so well-behaved”

Ten snickers.

“She should see me in my element” he says before meeting Johnny’s gaze, smirking mischievously. “Can I make a scene?”

He would never ruin such an important moment for Johnny, but the fleeting look of terror that washes over Johnny’s features makes it more than worth threatening with. Johnny knows that he can trust Ten, that Ten is loyal, but he also knows better than anyone what the younger is capable of. He’s always been reckless with his reputation, only ever limiting himself when it might affect Johnny negatively. 

“You wouldn’t” Johnny says and the confidence he says it with is almost enough to make Ten step out of line, gala and future business plans be damned. In the end though, he just rolls his eyes.

“You’re right” he says before beckoning a waiter balancing a silver tray of champagne glasses over. “I wouldn’t. Because I’m a loyal little  _ bitch _ like that”

Ten places his empty glass on the tray with a metal clink, grabbing another one. He turns to Johnny, raising his glass in a sarcastic toast while staring him deep in the eyes in what he hopes is a rather intimidating way. 

“Your well-behaved bitch” he says, bringing the glass to his lips. “Cheers, Johnny Seo”

Ten doesn’t need to watch Johnny to know that he’s breaking at the seams. To him, Ten is a walking, breathing temptation. His every word makes Johnny want to give into dangerous, unconventional urges. And Ten knows this, the knowledge accompanied by a delicious rush of absolute power. Ten loves knowing that he has Johnny dancing at his very fingertips, giving him a satisfactory response everytime he puts as much as a toe out of line.

As Ten tilts his head back to take a sip of the pleasantly bitter liquid, the collar around his neck gives an unexpected yank. His head is tugged forward as the velvet choker tightens for a split second, and he coughs. Champagne is pulled up in his nose only to be coughed right out again, most of it landing on his beautiful blouse. 

A head briefly turns at the light commotion, but other than that no one seems to notice. For a few seconds, Ten allows himself to think that maybe, just maybe, it was a genuine mistake from Johnny’s side. After all, it would be very unlike the corporation heir to purposely pull a stunt like that at a public party like this. Then he sees the way Johnny’s knuckles are white with how hard he’s gripping the diamond-crusted leash, the way his eyes are trained on Ten’s face, the way his face is frozen in a disturbingly calm smile. 

“Oops” he says silkily, pulling a little at the chain. Just so that Ten can feel the slightest pressure around his neck. “Sorry about that. Looks like you’re gonna have to change your blouse”

Ten stares at Johnny. The cogs are turning in his head and he almost doesn’t dare to breathe, scared that any sudden movements might wake them both up from this wonderful, terrifying daydream. The gala has been reduced to a faint buzz in the background and Ten really cannot be bothered with it right now. He can only see Johnny, smell Johnny, feel the pressure of his leash around his neck.

He swallows, the choker straining against the movement. Johnny’s eyes flicker towards his Adam's apple and Ten imagines the way the motion must have created a ripple through the diamonds that are embedded in the velvet.

“Are you going to let me go then?” Ten asks, heart beating irrationally fast under the soaked fabric of the shirt. He gestures towards the collar and he plans to stay quiet and good, he really does, but then he sees the way Johnny’s eyes burn in the faint light of the chandeliers. The way his muscles bulge beneath his limited-edition button-up. The way his hair is so perfectly styled, every strand gelled into perfect place. The way his heart-shaped lips have a thin layer of lip gloss smeared on them. And that little part of Ten that can never resist causing trouble just has to push it one step further.

“Or are you going to lead the way for me?”

He grabs the chain, tugging at the end Johnny’s holding. Johnny clearly isn’t expecting it, stumbling forward a little. His eyes widen, both at Ten’s words, his actions and his general boldness.

For a moment, Ten wonders if he finally did it. For the first time, Ten wonders if he took it too far.

Then, Johnny places a hand on his shoulder, leaning down until his lips are practically brushing against the shell of his ear. Hot breath fans across Ten’s cheekbone, tickling the sensitive skin and sending shivers down his spine.

“Would you follow me if I did?”

God  _ yes _ , Ten wants to say. He wants to laugh, the euphoria of his heart relaxing in relief so great that his knees wobble. Yes, yes, a million times yes. 

Ten takes Johnny’s hand from his shoulder, carefully gathering a part of the leash and placing it in that hand as well, closing his fingers around the chain. For a few moments he lets his own hand rest there, covering Johnny’s.

“I’m offended” he says with a tiny smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “That you think you even have to ask such a question”

Johnny doesn’t waste another breath before turning around, hurried steps smattering against the marble tiles as he walks towards the exit, hurling excuses and goodbyes left and right. Ten follows, trying to keep the smoldering satisfaction of getting his way out of his eyes. He tries to keep a low profile, head bowed down and posture small as a dog should. Not as the absolute hurricane he is.

Ten is like nature’s own force of destruction. Just like osmosis is the law of evening out concentrations, Ten is the law of never-ending chaos. He twirls through life, leaving a trail of demolition in his wake, wreaking havoc wherever he can. It’s the way it is, the way he works. Johnny is just there to soothe his disruptions, tend to his chaotic tendencies. Without someone who can balance him out the way Johnny can, Ten would implode from the sheer amount of destructive power his small body holds.

Following the older through corridors, up in elevators, Ten thinks for the second time in his life that he’s scared of his own capabilities. All signs currently point toward one thing, and it’s the culmination of everything he’s been trying to provoke for the last year. The underlying goal of every time he’s defied Johnny for the purpose of seeing his eyes widen in shock. And for the first time since the day Johnny visited him in the lab, taking him home, he worries about the damage his ticking-bomb-heart will cause once it detonates. 

Entering Johnny’s apartment is familiar in a way that further enhances the surreal situation they’re in. It’s dark, every light off, and Johnny makes to move to turn them on. On the lower levels, it’s day even during the night because the neon signs are never turned off. Up here, the light from the bottom levels can barely reach them and as a result, the flat is only illuminated by a faint electric glow. In the very weak light, Ten can only distinguish Johnny’s silhouette as they stand before each other.

The tension in the air sparks and crackles like electricity as the thing between them that’s been building finally starts spilling over. The unnamable, the unspeakable, that’s been growing in the dark where they (Johnny) have refused to acknowledge it.

Now, Ten thinks as he carefully undoes the clasp to his collar and lets it drop to the floor with a quiet clink, now it’s time to stop playing. He’s been playing the push-and-pull game for too long. As much as he loves pushing boundaries, stretching limits, it’s time for closure. 

He unbuttons his shirt with swift movements, one button at a time revealing more and more of his chest. Johnny doesn’t say anything, carelessly throwing the chain to a corner of the hallway with a clattering noise that seems deafening in the silence. 

Johnny’s eyes burn into Ten’s skin, drinking in the sight of more and more skin being displayed. He’s seen Ten half naked and naked countless times, but it’s different. Different because the purpose of the nakedness has changed, different because he’s allowing himself to  _ look _ for the first time. 

When all the buttons are undone, Ten lets the tunic slide off his shoulders with the help of gravity. It falls onto the floor and Ten takes a step forward. The air in the flat is chilly because Johnny is a psycho who likes it cold, and Ten shivers a little at the low temperature, his hairs rising and nipples pebbling. 

Johnny takes a deep shaky breath as if he needs to truly ground himself and Ten chuckles softly, placing two nimble hands on his chest. 

“May I?” he asks, pawing a little at the material of the shirt. Johnny nods, slow at first and then so fast Ten worries for his neck. 

“Yeah” he breathes out and Ten doesn’t waste a second to heed his command. He unbuttons the shirt, his steady hands revealing nothing about the raging storm inside to him. A storm that becomes louder and more violent for every patch of Johnny’s skin that is revealed. 

Ten has seen Johnny naked before too. But it’s a whole other thing this time around. The air is charged with something, something that he can’t pinpoint, something that makes all the difference. It’s not purely sexual, it goes deeper than that, but it’s something in that direction. 

Johnny’s skin is scorching under Ten’s fingers as he shimmies the unbuttoned shirt off his torso, his eyes roaming the expanse of nakes skin. Spellbound, he lets the tips of his fingers run across Johnny’s chest, his abs, his shoulders. 

Johnny says nothing, does nothing, but the way he sighs in contentment and smiles softly is answer enough. 

Ten’s stomach flutters when Johnny carefully cups Ten’s cheek, letting the other hand rest on the juncture of his waist. Johnny is so tall and broad compared to Ten, and it makes him feel surrounded in the best kind of way.

Johnny tilts Ten’s face up, forcing their eyes to lock. Ten can’t breathe. 

“Ten” Johnny whispers, voice breaking. “I… are you sure you can handle this?”

Ten feels his words on his face, hot and wet puffs of air hitting him so teasingly. 

“What do you mean?” Ten asks with all the presence of mind he can muster, despite every cell in his body screaming at him to demolish any remaining space between him and Johnny this instant. 

“Everything is going to change” Johnny says, a finger stroking along Ten’s jawline in the most distracting way. “If we do this, that is”

Ten raises an eyebrow and licks his lips before sending Johnny his most tantalising smirk. 

“Well” he mutters “bring it on baby”

His words have barely left his mouth before Johnny covers it with his lips, kissing Ten with such frenzy that he almost misses the mark. Ten laughs quietly before grabbing Johnny’s face, trying to steady him and slow him down enough that they can actually find each other’s lips. It takes some fumbling but after a while they manage to find a pace and an angle that’s comfortable. Johnny has to lean down a little but it’s okay, because Ten is pressed up against him, finally kissing him.

Ten’s mind is racing a million miles per second and he dazedly wonders if this is another one of his daydreams. It simply can’t be happening, this thing that he’s been dreaming about pretty much since the day Johnny looked him in the eyes and told him that he was going to take Ten far away from the laboratory where he’d spent his entire life. Johnny’s lips are soft and warm and move with the confidence of someone who’s kissed and been kissed before. 

The thought sends a dull sting of jealousy through Ten’s chest and he hurries to tuck it away. 

This is not the moment to get irrationally jealous. Especially not when Johnny’s hand slides from his waist, over the hem of his jeans, to lightly rest on the swell of his ass. 

Shivers break out all over Ten’s body. It feels nothing like touching himself, every brush of Johnny’s fingers sending sparks of electricity through his body. It’s a maddening, white-hot ticklish tease of a touch and Ten can’t decide if he wants to pull away because it’s too much or if he wants to press closer. He’s quivering, wondering if those nerve ends have always been hidden in his ass or if Johnny magically awoke some sort of super sensitivity. 

Johnny pulls away with a wet noise that shouldn't weaken Ten’s knees the way it does.

“Ten baby” he mumbles, breathing coming quick and shallow. “I’m… are you..?”

Despite the uncomfortable position, Ten can feel the distinct bulge poking his thigh and he feels a rush of adrenaline shoot through his body like a bolt of lightning. 

“Yes” he gasps without fully knowing what they’re talking about. “God Johnny,  _ yes _ , me too I’m-“

Johnny groans, leaning in to rest his forehead against Ten’s. It’s a little sweaty and sticky but Ten doesn’t care. He’s way past the point of caring about anything that isn’t Johnny as close to him as possible, kissing him, hugging him, fucking him. His thoughts are all jumbled up, tangled and frayed like messy threads tied in knots. 

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me” Johnny says, sounding in partial disbelief and partial awe. Ten laughs quietly. 

“I think I have a fairly good idea” he says with all the cheekiness he can muster, grinding his thigh a little against Johnny’s bulge, just enough to show that he knows it’s there. Johnny sucks his bottom lip into his mouth at the movement. 

“You drive me absolutely insane” he mutters. “Everyday, everything about you. The things you wear, when you touch me, I… it makes me go crazy”

Ten huffs out a breathless laughter. 

“So show me” he demands, finding that even in this situation when he’s pretty much out of his mind he’s bratty and demanding. He weaves his hands into Johnny’s hair, feeling the soft strands beneath his fingers. “I’ve been trying to catch your attention for years Johnny”

Johnny’s eyebrows raise at this. 

“Fucking knew it” he mutters, nosing at Ten’s face in a peculiar way that reminds him of a pet cuddling up to its owner in, which is incredibly ironic. “Those slutty outfits weren’t for nothing, were they?”

Ten grins, his smile glinting wolfishly in the weak glow from the streetlights on the lower levels. 

“No they were not” he agrees. “Now, how about you do something about it?”

Without warning, Ten grabs a handful of Johnny’s ass, feeling the supple flesh in his hand as he squeezes it. Johnny positively growls. 

“You don’t have to ask twice” he promises, taking Ten’s hand to pull him in the direction of his bedroom. 

Ten is practically glowing. Everything he’s ever wanted is coming into fruition right before his eyes, and for a night he’s going to allow himself to not worry about the consequences of his actions. He makes sure to throw his anxiety away the same way Johnny throws him onto the bed, Ten’s hands immediately finding purchase in the silk sheets. 

Worrying can be moved to tomorrow’s schedule he decides as Johnny starts unzipping his pants. 

~

Mark thinks that he enjoys waking up in Yukhei’s arms a little more than he should.

He’s never been fond of physical contact, tending to push away his clingier friends when they get too close, treating even his family with a gentle but existent space between them. It’s nothing personal, he just doesn’t particularly enjoy that feeling of warmth against his skin, another person’s limbs weighing him down. 

With Yukhei, it’s different. Ever since they started sharing a bed, it’s been an unspoken agreement that they cuddle every night. Mark doesn’t really know how it happened, he just knows that Yukhei one day gathered him in his arms, under the vague claim that Mark was cold. 

He wasn’t, but for some reason he didn’t complain or go fetch another blanket like he normally would have. His skin didn’t crawl by the sensation of arms encircling his waist, or even the hot exhales hitting the back of his neck. Instead, it all felt thrilling, sending little shivers down his spine. Mark had trembled for hours in Yukhei’s grip that first night, until exhaustion finally allowed him to relax. When he woke up the next morning, Yukhei had loosened his grip on him and removed the blanket so they wouldn’t overheat.

Yukhei had been lying on his side facing Mark, looking at him with big, watchful eyes. When Mark started stirring he hadn't looked away or been embarrassed like a normal person would be, but had smiled excitedly and asked if they could make pancakes for breakfast. 

(They did. Mark made one and burned it so badly that Yukhei decided it was probably for the best if Mark was banned from the kitchen for all time. He made the pancakes instead, and of course they were stupidly delicious).

After that night, they’d never talked about their little cuddling sessions, but they had continued. Mark doesn’t think Yukhei purposely avoids the subject, he simply thinks the guard dog doesn’t comprehend the nature of their relationship, and the fact that nightly cuddling sessions is something they should have a conversation about. Mark finds that to be one of Yukhei’s cuter traits: the way he’s just not been brought up to think like a human, to question every interaction and its nature. He just goes with what feels right, not understanding why Mark twitches nervously when he cuddles up to him. 

This morning, Mark awakes to find Yukhei staring at him as per usual. He flushes, also as per usual, grumbling something about being ugly in the morning before rolling over so he has his back to Yukhei and his face towards the wall. It’s not healthy to look at such a handsome face so early in the morning, especially not when Mark himself probably looks like death. How can one be so model-like at this time of day? How is that fair?

Yukhei gives what can only be described as a grumpy growl and Mark nearly jumps out of his skin when hands encircle the part of his waist where his shirt has ridden up, touching him in all the most ticklish places. 

“You’re never ugly” Yukhei whines, burying his nose in Mark’s neck and locking his legs around Mark. Mark is about to laugh and call Yukhei out for being so dorky and clingy in the morning, so completely unlike the guarded and aggressive person he’d been when they first met, when he realises something. A crucial detail that makes his breath catch in his throat. A very distinct hardness poking the back of his thigh, rubbing against the juncture of his ass. 

Mark stiffens up like a plank, every hair on his body standing straight up. Yukhei doesn’t seem to be aware of his problem, contentedly snuggling up to Mark and pressing his morning wood into the soft, fleshy underside of Mark’s cheeks. Though he might not be entirely unaware, since Mark is pretty sure he can detect some miniscule gyrating movements from his hips.

He flushes hot and swallows a burning lump in his throat. 

“Yukhei” he says with a trembling voice, trying not to lose himself in the way every nerve in his body is crackling with static. “You have… you’re…”

Yukhei hums questioningly, sliding a hand up Mark’s shirt. He brushes over the hot skin, feeling the ridges of Mark’s ribs, and Mark fucking squeaks. 

“What?” he asks, voice low and scratchy as it always is when he’s just woken up. 

“Is this…” Mark has to cut himself off when he bites his lip to stop a humiliating mewl from spilling from his lips. One of Yukhei’s criminally big hands is rubbing his tummy, making his skin catch on fire. “Is this… what you- we’re doing, is it… is it a good idea?”

Yukhei stops moving.

“What are we doing?” he asks, as if he doesn’t understand what Mark possibly could be referring to. Mark feels mortified at the prospect of having to put into words exactly what they’re doing, but thankfully Yukhei seems to catch on. “Oh,  _ oh _ . You mean this?”

He punctuates the question with a firm ground against Mark’s ass and Mark turns his head, glaring at Yukhei with flaming cheeks.    
“Yes,  _ that _ ” he says, trying to sound steadfast but ending up with a weak and shaky voice. “Is it… I don’t think we should. It’s not… it’s inappropriate”

The smile that had been tugging on the corners of Yukhei’s lips melt into a somber, understanding look.

“You don’t want to” he states it, voice as void of disappointment as he can make it, although Mark can detect traces of it concealed in his eyes. He starts pulling away. “That’s okay Mark. I have my hand-”

Before Yukhei can finish the sentence, Mark has turned around, a hand clamped down on his shoulder as he slams him down on the mattress. As he pins Yukhei to the bed he swings a leg over his midriff, straddling him. Yukhei’s eyes bulge out of his skull, and Mark himself feels rather shocked at his boldness. 

“ _ Mark _ ” Yukhei breathes, making Mark’s sudden bravery vanish. His hands hover just above Mark’s waist, as if uncertain if he’s allowed to touch. It might be Mark’s imagination but he thinks he feels a twitch in Yukhei’s groin. “I… did you change your mind?”

Mark opens his mouth to say that he never didn’t want it. That it was never a matter of him not wanting it, but rather a fear of crossing a line he should leave untouched, of getting involved that would end up hurting him the way it did with… 

“No one” Mark says, knowing he cannot fully explain the dynamics of this world to Yukhei. “Can know”

Yukhei nods, eyes big and full of something gullible. Mark wonders if one can be a guard dog with that aura of complete naivety, or if it’s something Yukhei shows with Mark because he trusts him. He sincerely hopes it is the latter, although it’s out of more selfish reasons than he’d like to admit. 

“So… it’s a yes then?”

Mark smiles at Yukhei asking for a verbal confession. He takes Yukhei’s hands, feeling warm at how his own barely cover them, and places them on his hips. 

“Yes”

His words are barely out of his mouth before Yukhei shoots up, kissing him with such enthusiasm that he nearly loses a few teeth in the process.

~

“Are you going to be out long?”

Johnny straightens his tie, looking over his reflection to find potential errors in his outfit. Potential holes in the hull, hidden mistakes that can sink the ship.    
“It’s just lunch” he says, carefully brushing a hair strand gone astray to its rightful place, gelled back in a stylish yet professional style. “You know I won’t be long”   
Ten clicks his tongue, clearly not impressed by Johnny’s snarky response. 

“It's lunch with your brother and your  _ parents _ ” he says, emphasising the last word strangely, as if he’s not entirely sure how to treat it. Johnny supposes that may very well be the case, since Ten was born from a laboratorcial concoction, and the closest thing he ever had to a parent was the scientist who picked out the gametes that would fuse into the being that is Ten today. Johnny shivers a little at the thought of fetus Ten floating around in some half-translucent fluid in a glass jar. Gross. “You never know how long it’s going to take”

Johnny chuckles, taking the perfume his brother got him for his birthday, spraying it lightly on his neck. 

“What, miss me already?” he teasingly asks, skin breaking out in goosebumps the moment the words are out of his mouth. Ever since the gala, Johnny has started adapting Ten’s flirty ways more and more, and it is equal parts thrilling and terrifying. It never fails to grant him that feeling of free-falling, of nearing the ground at break-neck speed without knowing if he’s going to be alright or not. 

Luck seems to be with him yet again as Ten laughs.

“You wish” he teases back, kicking the blankets off of him so they slide down on the floor. As usual, Ten is in Johnny’s bed despite it being almost noon, an unlit cigarette dangling from his fingers as he’s too lazy to get a lighter. His hair is ruffled, smears of last night’s eyeliner forming streaks that go up to his hairline. He’s not wearing anything, choosing to instead drape the sheets over his crotch to preserve a minuscule ounce of dignity. Because Ten is Ten, he’s put on a thick, heavy diamond-encrusted choker despite not even having stepped foot out of bed yet. If there’s one thing Ten absolutely adores, it’s that feeling of living lavish while having to work absolutely nothing for it. Johnny has long since stopped questioning the younger man’s obsession with just lounging in bed while wearing jewellery that cost lower-level-people a monthly salary.

The difference between today and any other day a month ago, is that Ten didn’t creep into Johnny’s room in the morning offering the weak excuse that ‘your bed is softer’. Today, just like that last few mornings, Ten woke up across Johnny, naked and warm under the same covers. 

Johnny doesn’t quite know what it is that they have: if it’s sexual, or if Ten also feels that roller coaster-like sensation whenever he says something particularly daring to Johnny. He doesn’t know, and he kind of wants to keep living in uncertainty for a bit longer. They can never have a normal relationship, and it’s better for both of them if they keep some things unspoken. The moment they talk about it, the spell will be broken and any impression that they can have something normal will be demolished. 

“Hey, your tie is crooked”

Johnny is pretty sure it’s not, but he swallows the protests as Ten strides across the floor with the blankets wrapped around his shoulders like a royal cape. When he stands right in front of Johnny, who’s naturally gravitated from the mirror to Ten’s direction, he lets it drop with elegant flourish and it unravels like a blooming flower on the heated tiles. Nimble fingers reach up to carefully straighten out the already perfect tie, brushing off a few invisible specks of dust just to have an excuse to grab the suit jacket. 

“Now it’s straight” Ten says, dead serious as he stares up at Johnny with big eyes. “Unlike you”

Johnny chuckles quietly, putting an arm around Ten’s waist without even noticing it. He has to fight the urge to let them roam across the expanse of warm, bare skin. 

“Look who’s talking” he mumbles, stroking the curve of Ten’s waist. He takes a deep breath. “Elaine is coming” he confesses, making Ten raise an eyebrow.

“So that’s what’s got your panties in a twist” he hums before stepping closer so they’re chest to chest. Their rib cages are touching, stomachs warm against each other when they breathe. Johnny breathes deeply, fighting off the arousal that burns like a steady thrum in his veins at the feeling of a naked Ten pressed up against him. “It’s going to be fine. You won’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to. Just be polite”

Johnny sighs, revelling in the stupidly simple yet satisfying sensation of Ten’s chest expanding in tandem with his. 

“Yeah” mumbles. “You… you’re right”

He gives a small smile before kissing Ten. It’s a short kiss, sweet and soft and so domestic it sends chills of fear down his spine. When he pulls away Ten chases after him, whining softly. “I’m going to be late if I don’t go now”

Ten glares at him but lets go of his suit. 

“Fine” he grumbles. “Go do your important business stuff with your family. Leave poor little me all alone here”

Johnny rolls his eyes at the dramatic display of childishness, wondering when Ten got so damn spoiled. 

“I’ll be back before you know it” he promises before pressing a kiss to his cheek, against better judgement. “I’ll bring you something”

Ten perks up at this.

“M’kay” he says, sounding pleased at the prospect of being gifted something. 

Spoiled rotten, Johnny thinks as he walks out of the apartment and towards the elevator to the level below, where the nearest mall is located. Somehow, even such a negative expression brings a smile onto his face.

Maybe because of its connotations. 

Johnny thinks he should stop before he gets tangled up in something dangerous. That is, more than he already is.

~

Mark thinks that despite how much he loves his brother, there will always be a tiny, miniscule yet unbreachable gap between them. A small crack that no bridge can cross. 

It’s not because they’re different, Mark muses as Johnny asks the waiter to bring him a glass of red wine, completely contrasting Mark’s soda. It’s not even in the expensive suit his brother has chosen to wear, earning him some rather odd looks from other patrons when he sits next to Mark who’s dressed in jeans and a hoodie.

It’s nothing that has anything to do with either of them, really, Mark thinks as he watches his brother tighten his tie. It’s just that knowledge of how they’re related to each other, and how the company, even though Mark would rather die than inherit it, rightfully should belong to him.   
No matter how much Johnny loves him, nothing will ever make him stop feeling guilty about stealing something that belongs to Mark. 

“What are you having?” Johnny asks, stirring Mark out of his musings. “The salad sounds really good”

Mark scrunches his nose up a little, picking up the menu. 

“A little boring, isn’t it?” he asks, eyeing the items listed on the menu. The numbers on the side of the dishes, indicating the prices, make him sweat. It’s fine, because Johnny will pay like he always does, but it makes him feel guilty.

“Come on Mark, don’t be a baby”

In the end, Mark settles for kimchi stew and Johnny for a salad, but ultimately decide to wait with actually ordering until their parents arrive. 

“So” Johnny says, in that unnatural way someone does when they want to talk about something specific but is unsure of how to start the conversation. 

“So” Mark repeats, raising an eyebrow as he clasps his hands and puts his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his knuckles in an imitation of Johnny’s pose. 

“Spill it” Johnny says, causing Mark some momentary confusion. “How are things working out with Yukhei? It’s been like what, months already?”

A blush blooms on Mark’s face at the mention of Yukhei’s name. He clears his throat. 

“Ah, yes” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Three months is… is correct I think”

Johnny eyes him expectantly.

“Well?” he says when Mark makes no move to continue. “How do you like him?”

Mark bites his lip. Their parents have yet to arrive and he can be honest with Johnny… right? It’s not like the older doesn’t have a suspicious relationship with his own dog. 

“I think” Mark starts, speaking slowly. “I like him. He seems to know how to be a good guard dog, and he thinks of safety measures even I don’t. He’s a good companion too. He’s… I don’t know. Yukhei’s cute and funny. A little childish, but in a good way. Just… he’s just sweet, you know?”   
During his short monologue, Johnny’s smile slowly slips off his face, and that tiny crease that Mark so deeply hates seeing on his brother’s face appears between his eyebrows. 

“Mark” Johnny says with that serious voice that Mark knows to translate into an upcoming lecture. “You’re not going to like hearing this but… you shouldn’t tie personal bonds to your guard dog”

Even though Mark knew this was coming from the moment Johnny started frowning, it sends an ice cold shock of discomfort through him. Discomfort and annoyance because seriously, who’s Johnny to tell him that?

“It’s a bad idea” Johnny continues. “I’m sure Yukhei is lovely, but it’s probably healthier for everyone involved if you keep your relationship professional, hm?”   
Mark scoffs, unable to hide his flaring irritation at his brother’s righteous yet empty words. 

“That’s rich” he says through gritted teeth, “coming from you”

Johnny’s eyes narrow instantly, posture stiffening up a little.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” he lies so easily that Mark almost buys it. Key word being almost, because Mark knows  _ exactly _ what he’s talking about and while he usually would have let Johnny get away with it he won’t allow his brother to run around berating him for things he’s guilty of himself. It’s just too hypocritical.

“I know that more often than not, Ten doesn’t sleep in his own bed” Mark says, studying his reflection in a spoon that’s lying on the table. “What do those dressing gowns of his even cost? Surely it’s more than any Christmas present you’ve ever gotten mom and dad”

Johnny’s expression hardens from faux-confusion to anger. 

“My relationship with Ten is none of your business” he bites out. 

“It  _ was _ none of my business” Mark corrects. “Until you decided to lecture me about my relationship to my own… guard dog. Something you have no right, whatsoever, to do.”

Johnny sighs. 

“I just don’t want things to end up like they did with Jeno-“

“That” Mark cuts him off with, a deadly smile on his lips. “Was over the line. And you know it”

Johnny bows his head down in a curt apology. 

“I’m sorry” he offers, and he sounds sincere. “It’s just… I worry about you. I don’t want you to go through that again”

“So I should just go through life avoiding things, in case they end up being inconvenient?” Mark challenges, making Johnny shake his head. 

“Of course not” he says. “It’s just… it doesn’t hurt to be careful, does it?”

There’s a lot Mark wants to say to Johnny as the waiter comes back with their drinks, putting them on the table with soft clinks. He wants to say that it’s not Johnny’s job to make sure he doesn’t hurt. That it’s not Johnny’s responsibility to cushion their surroundings in case he falls. That Johnny has no right to try to control him in a misplaced attempt to protect him. 

“The same thing could happen to Ten” is what Mark chooses to say instead. “At any given moment. Would you still regret meeting him?”

Johnny looks at him weirdly, as if he’s nauseous by the mere idea of Ten getting put down. It has probably never even struck him as a possibility. Mark barrels on, mercilessly.

“Would you take it back?”

Johnny swallows, adam’s apple bobbing drily.

“It’s not the same” he says, his voice is quiet. Mark nods.

“You’re right” he agrees. “You’ve known Ten longer than I knew Jeno. You’re close in ways Jeno and I were not”

Johnny doesn’t respond to this, his eyes foggy and glossed over with something that makes his gaze appear far away and distant. He doesn’t respond, opting to instead drink some of his wine. It’s an expensive type, the sort that typically is sipped on to a meal but Johnny gulps it down as if he’s forcing down something particularly unpleasant. 

When he switches topics, Mark knows not to pressure him. He might not be entirely sure of the nature of his and Ten’s relationship, and he’s still angry at his brother’s hypocrisy, but he understands why Johnny is uncomfortable with the previous conversation. 

He really can’t blame Johnny for not wanting to imagine Ten being diagnosed with cancer, can he? 

~

“I take it that it went to shit?”

It’s a rhetorical question. Ten knows by the way Johnny heavily flops down on the bed, face first, that it went beyond terrible. Things tend to do that when Johnny’s biological mother is involved. 

Johnny groans something indecipherable, his words muffled by the pillow he’s breathing into. 

Ten scoffs, poking at Johnny with a toe, his hands being occupied with a mug of tea and a cigarette. The smell of jasmine tea and nicotine is one Johnny once confessed to associate with Ten, and Ten is more than happy to further feed that association.

“Come on” Ten says, not unkindly, and continues prodding at Johnny with a naked foot. He’s still wearing the diamond choker he was wearing when Johnny left, but has dressed himself in a long dressing gown made out of a sheer, lacy material. It’s black, with big fluffy fur-like things on the ends of the sleeves as well as the bottom of the cape-like back. He knows he looks like a mix between a whore and a royalty in it and he knows that it’s a look Johnny absolutely adores on him.“Tell me”

He puts his cup down on the bedside table and runs the freed hand through Johnny’s chestnut brown hair, feeling the soft strands run between his fingers. Johnny hums quietly at the sensation and raises his head, propping his elbow up to rest his chin in his hand. 

“My dad is retiring” Johnny starts, making Ten raise his eyebrows. “That was why he wanted to have that lunch, with Mark and Elaine and me. To tell us that I’m officially taking over the corporation soon”

“That’s huge” Ten remarks, and it really is. It’s what Johnny has been working with for as long as Ten has known him: preparing himself for the day he’s going to take over the company as the new CEO. It’s what all the business trips, sleepless nights and last minute meetings have led up to. What Johnny’s life has led up to. “I’m guessing that’s not what’s got you down?”

Johnny shakes his head. 

“I lashed out at Elaine again” he admits. “Because whenever she’s around it’s like I lose self control”

Ten sighs. He’d figured it was something like that that had happened. He has yet to see or be retold a meeting between Johnny and Elaine that hasn’t ended in flames. While Johnny is usually a calm and level headed person, it’s like Elaine’s very face makes him relive his childhood’s biggest trauma. It makes him irrationally angry and embarrassing. 

“Oh darling” Ten mutters, taking a drag off his cigarette. “You really need to work on controlling your emotions. You’re 25 for god’s sake, you can’t keep antagonising your mother forever”   
“She’s not my mother” Johnny instantly rebutts, the automatically programmed response to that statement. Ten tugs a little at a strand of his hair, earning him a yelp of pain.

“She is” Ten says firmly. “You’re being childish. And unfair, it’s not like she was the one who was unfaithful”

“No” Johnny admits, staring off into space with an unreadable expression. “But she was the one who chose to keep me.”

Ten frowns, not liking the way Johnny is speaking about himself.

“Why would she choose to keep such a troublesome thing? Why create such a… problem?”   
Ten is dumbfounded, gaping at Johnny. It’s incomprehensible, the nonsense he’s spewing.

Then it clicks and suddenly Ten feels so very, very tired.

“This is about Mark, isn’t it” he mutters, and Johnny predictably flinches a little. Ten resists the urge to smack him in the face for being so insanely stupid. 

“No” Johnny lies, Ten seeing right through him of course.

“Liar” Ten calls him out, and Johnny deflates in a rather amusing way. It’s beyond Ten how Johnny can think he can get away with lies after so many years of knowing him. 

Ten breathes out through his nose and squashes what’s left of his cigarette in the ashtray. 

“You know” Ten says tiredly. “If Mr Lee didn’t want you he wouldn’t have acknowledged you as his son. And if Mark wanted the company he’d come to some sort of agreement with you. Which he won’t, since there’s nothing on earth he’s less interested in than business”

Johnny doesn’t meet Ten’s gaze, eyes flickering between anything and everything except for the man in his bed.

“But he’s the rightful heir” Johnny mumbles with an uncertain voice that breaks Ten’s heart. “I… it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t want it. I’ve still… stolen it from him, in a sense”

“You’re full of shit” Ten says, entirely truthfully. He can’t believe Johnny of all people is thinking such stupid illogical things. Then again, Johnny always loved his half brother more than anything or anyone else in the world. Despite the awkwardness that had hovered over their relationship ever since they’d been told they had different mothers, Johnny loves Mark. “You want this job. This life. Mark does not. At the end of the day, that’s it. That’s all there is to it”

Ten softly cups Johnny’s cheeks, hoping he doesn’t smell too nasty of tobacco as he invades his personal space and breathes in his face.

“It really, truly isn’t more complicated than that, love” he whispers, hoping to convey sincerity with the way he looks deep into Johnny’s eyes. Johnny must either be convinced, or too tired to talk more about it, because he nods before closing his eyes and leaning into Ten’s touch without further argument. A fool would think it’s the former but Ten clicks his tongue in annoyance. He knows Johnny and he knows there’s no way the older would drop such an old thorn in his side with just a few encouraging words. Johnny is manipulating him again, trying to act like he’s fine and that they don’t need to talk about his issues. Which is dumb because Ten loves Johnny and he wants to talk about everything that concerns Johnny, the good and the bad.

Ten ignores the way his heart skips a beat at the thought of love, the muscle squeezing with affection as Johnny nuzzles his face into his hand and presses a peck to it, as if he were the dog between them. It’s dangerous, acknowledging his feelings: it’s something he can never expect Johnny to do. Ten knows that Johnny loves him back, it’s in the way he looks at Ten, the way he talks to Ten, the way he’s currently peeking up at Ten through thick, dark lashes.

But Johnny knows just as well as Ten that nothing can ever come out of their feelings. Their feelings are, unfortunately, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Johnny is the heir to a huge corporation, and while their relationship would’ve been easy to hide if they were nobodies, it’d be impossible to hide it from the cameras they both know will surround Johnny once his father breaks the news.

Yes, Ten is aware that the man he’s currently petting will never actually be his. Unlike Johnny however, he doesn’t try to strangle his feelings. If Johnny thinks avoiding the subject is the least painful way to go, then Ten will respect that because while it hurts it’s not like he can afford to be selfish about this. After all, it’s not his life and career that will be left in ruins if people find out about them. But in his head, in the safe space inside his skull, he’s free to dream about everything they could be if they were allowed to let their feelings out. 

There, and only there, Ten can admit that he’s truly in love with Johnny. Has been ever since he, at 19 years old, walked into the laboratory to look at the defect they’d kept alive and for some reason decided to give him. 

The way Johnny had looked at him when he slowly said that yes, he would in fact love to accept the gift, had stirred up that first breeze of warmth that Ten soon would come to associate with the older man. 

“I think dad is planning to reveal it at the new year’s ball” Johnny suddenly says, ripping Ten out of his daydreams. “That I’m taking over”

Ten nods, reaching for the forgotten mug on the bedside table. 

“Is the new year’s ball tradition something you’ll continue when you’re the boss?” Ten asks, genuinely curious. Every year, there’s an awful hassle surrounding the prestigious ball, the stress making everyone within three miles range of the Lee family age ten years. 

Johnny shrugs, chuckling a little as Ten takes a gulp of tea and winces at the now cold, bitter liquid. 

“I don’t know” he says before reaching out to push a strand of Ten’s hair behind his ear. “You’re cute today”   
Ten raises an eyebrow at how unusually soft and domestic of a confession Johny just let slip. Johnny blushes a little but doesn’t take it back.    
Somewhere during the conversation Johnny has rose into a sitting position, gravitating towards Ten who’s sitting across him on the bed. Their legs are tangled together, Johnny’s suit soft against Ten’s skin. 

“I’m not cute” Ten says, and to punctuate his words he slips the gown off a shoulder, exposing his collarbones even more (the sash was already coming undone). “I’m ravishing”   
Johnny licks his lips, his eyes tracing the fabric’s movement and the skin that’s now bare for him.

“You are” he murmurs, his outright honesty almost making Ten lose composure. He hadn’t expected the older to flirt back like that. It’s making the usually so composed Ten lose footing. 

He quickly regains it, firing off a smirk. 

“Then why” he starts, leaning back a little to expose himself in a way that surely makes him look delectable, “don’t you show me just how ravishing I am,  _ darling _ ?”

His pose, or the pet name, must really do it for Johnny because he eagerly leans forwards and attaches his lips to Ten’s collarbone. Ten gasps at the sudden sensation, hand flying up to grip at Johnny’s hair. The light suckling sensation makes the nerves in his neck sizzle and he closes his eyes, trying to control his breathing so he won’t seem so sensitive and desperate.

Johnny smells so good, and the stimulation of the sensitive skin of his neck is so good, and for a moment Ten just wants to pretend.

So he does.

He pretends that he and Johnny can have the kind of love and transparency he deep inside so selfishly craves, pretends like they have all the time and freedom in the world. When they kiss they mould together so nicely, and the heat of Johnny’s mouth can’t get wet enough as Ten presses close, closer, until his chest aches from how hard his hugging the older. He breathes through his nose but it’s almost not enough when the world is ablaze.

When Johnny enters him, everything takes a rosy hue. Ten can’t think, can’t concentrate, can’t comprehend beyond the painful intrusion and the way his flesh burns. Johnny holds his hand, kissing him through the initial pain they both know will fade soon. 

Ten thinks that it’s beautiful, how their love can take physical form in the way they melt together in one being. And after Johnny has spilled inside of him, and finished him off with his mouth, Ten lies on his back on soiled sheets. He’s trying to regain his sanity, get down from his high as hot semen drips out of his exposed hole. He’s at his most vulnerable, both physically and mentally: no one but Johnny has ever seen him like this, and Johnny knows that.

When Johnny comes back into the room with a wet towel to help Ten clean up, he doesn’t say the words. Because just like everyday since they met, it doesn’t matter how much he yearns to spill everything he feels for Ten. He can’t. It’d only further complicate their relationship if he said it aloud, solidifying what they secretly already know to be true. 

So Ten keeps quiet, save for the soft wince when Johnny cleans his sore rim. He knows that when Johnny slips into bed with him, putting muscular arms around his waist and pressing kisses along his back, it’s as vocal as he can be about his feelings. He  _ knows _ , and yet he can’t keep his soaring heart from wanting. Being aware that he can never have more somehow never made it hurt any less. 

Inevitability makes for acceptance, but not for consolation. 

~

Mark thinks that Yukhei is almost too good to be true. 

While Mark sits on the kitchen table, legs dangling over the edge, Yukhei stands by the stove. He’s frying eggs and bacon, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips and the combined smell of the breakfast and view of his muscular back has Mark salivating. 

Music is playing quietly from a speaker and Yukhei twitches sometimes, doing silly little moves to the music and Mark can’t help but smile everytime it happens. It’s so cute, such a huge contrast from when he first met Yukhei. Angry, terrified, cowering in an iron cage. Mark hopes it’s because of the trust he thinks he’s built between them. 

“There we go” Yukhei exclaims, sliding an egg out of the pan and onto a plate. He picks it up and trudges over to him, giving it to him along with a kiss he presses to Mark’s temple. “Bon appetit!”

Mark laughs at his dog’s antics, feeling his heart flutter pleasantly. It’s been doing that a lot lately, ever since he and Yukhei started sleeping together. If he’d worried Yukhei would be weird and awkward about their sexual relationship, his worries were baseless and in vain: Yukhei seems to treat sex as something important, and has been going full boyfriend-mode ever since that first impromptu jerk off session in Marks bed. Mark can’t say he dislikes the change. 

Yukhei is sweet, handsome, and funny. He’s dorky and acts stupid most of the time, but in a way that makes Mark want to act silly too. Time and conversation flows effortlessly between them, and sometimes Mark forgets that Yukhei has lived a harsh life filled with tough lessons. It doesn’t happen often, but when his goofy personality does crack up and lets his more serious side shine through, Mark is always taken off guard. 

Mark really, really likes Yukhei. Which isn’t really a development he predicted when he saw Yukhei alone, feral and scared out of his mind in that cramped, dirty cage. Yukhei had told Mark a couple of days after he moved in that part of the reason why he was so aggressive was the smell: the laboratory was disinfected, but the cage had not been properly cleaned between dogs and with Yukhei’s superb sense of smell he could detect the scent of every dog that had been housed there. It had driven him mad, having to constantly be tortured with the lingering pheromones from terrified hybrids. 

Yukhei is very open and trusting with the few people he does let in, and after a few days of calming down from the stressful ordeal of being kept in a cage he’d opened up to Mark, admitting that the reason he didn’t attack Mark was that his scent calmed him down. Yukhei had explained it like a ray of light in the dark, or a guiding rope when you stumble in blindness. It had found its way through all the confusing smells and given Yukhei something to cling to. 

That’s when Yukhei had decided that he wanted Mark. And he’d been very happy when Mark wanted him too. 

Yukhei jumps up to sit next to Mark, the table creaking ominously as he does so. His plate is filled to the brim with twice as much food as Mark’s and when he places it on his lap it looks heavy. 

“Yet another nutritious morning meal” he says to himself as he picks up his eating utensils, making Mark burst out laughing. 

“You’re dumb” he counters and Yukhei just shrugs with that dopy smile of his, gathering egg and bacon on his fork and stuffing it into his mouth. 

“You still like me” he points out, words slurred with food. “So joke’s on you”

Mark feels himself flush at Yukhei’s words, bashful even though Yukhei stuffing himself with egg and bacon. Their thighs are touching and it sends sparks up Mark’s spine.

“I do” he admits, before putting his untouched plate down beside him. “Yukhei?”

Yukhei hums affirmatively, cheeks bulging with food and bouncing everytime he chews. 

“Be my boyfriend?”

For a moment, everything stills. Yukhei’s chewing slows down and he swallows. The air freezes and the earth stops spinning, Mark’s breath catching in his throat as his words slowly register in Yukhei’s brain. Mark can hear the cogs turning, can see how Yukhei slowly understands just what it is Mark is asking of him. 

Mark can’t breathe, the world crashing down as he realises what a stupid, stupid thing it was to say. What had seemed so right and natural to throw out in the moment, the moment where Yukhei was laughing and seeming as in-like as Mark is, now feels like an idiotic mistake that Mark wishes he could erase. 

“Mark” Yukhei says slowly, as if trying to figure out how to say it. “I’m your dog. You  _ own _ me. Please… explain to me how this could ever work out”

Mark gulps, trying to dissolve the lump in his throat. 

“It’s not like that” he argues. “Is it?”

Yukhei sighs, following Mark’s suit and putting his food away.

“Not between us, in your apartment” he says. “But in the streets you’re required by law to have me on a leash. I’m not allowed to buy groceries on my own unless you give me a permit. Don’t you get it? That’s not a foundation one can build a relationship on”

Mark bites his lip, heart wobbling with desperation. His skin is burning, pulsating, his head pounding. It feels like he’s being torn apart, like he just ruined something beautiful and is forced to watch it fall apart. He knew he liked Yukhei, but he didn’t know how much until Yukhei is in front of him, rejecting him.

“But I like you” he pitifully confesses. “I… I just want to be with you”

Yukhei is quiet for a few moments, staring intensely at Mark who avoids his gaze. 

“Run away with me”

Mark’s breath hitches and he wonders if he’s misheard Yukhei. If Yukhei’s words were drowned out by the roaring of his blood.

A warm hand envelopes Mark’s.

“Mark” Yukhei says, his voice impossibly soft and sweet. “I mean it”

A hand slides under Mark’s chin and tilts his head up, forcing Mark to look at his lover. Yukhei’s face is open and bare and full of emotions Mark can’t read and he’s struck by how much he  _ wants _ . 

He wets his lips.

“Where would we go?” Mark whispers, not wanting to accept such a drastic decision just yet. 

“Someplace that isn’t Korea” Yukhei says, as if that narrows it down much. “Some country where dogs can live somewhat freely”

He trails off, cupping Mark’s face fully with his other hand. 

“Someplace where we could live as lovers, instead of dog and owner” he says and Mark wonders if this is even the same Yukhei as the one he knows. He seems so different. 

Yukhei thumbs Mark’s lower lip, feeling the soft flesh beneath the pad of his finger. 

“Would you like that?” he asks quietly.

Mark thinks about his life: about the many grey days spent above the pollution clouds, since his parents were rich enough to live on the top level. He thinks about hating school but studying diligently anyway because someone had decided he needed an education. He thinks about his brother being awkward with him ever since they realised he was the product of an affair.

And no matter how hard Mark thinks, he cannot come up with a single thing that is truly worth staying for.

He swallows. 

“Yeah” he croaks out, grabbing Yukhei’s wrists and looking into his eyes with what he hopes is a steady gaze. “Let’s do it”

  
“Let’s run away”


	2. Lass uns laufen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which secrets are revealed, choices are made, and help comes from a perhaps unexpected source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update. The winter weather is seriously fucking me up. But here is chapter two! As always, please excuse if there are any plot holes ':D I hope not but my brain is rotten sludge so I can't be sure
> 
> Chapter title from Tokio Hotel's 'Lass uns laufen'
> 
> "Lass uns laufen bis die nacht sich erhellt  
> Und bist der letzte regen der welt  
> Über uns zerfällt"
> 
> Translation:
> 
> "Let us run until the night lights up  
> And until the last rain of the world  
> Falls apart above us"

Ten likes galas.

He likes the extravagance of it all, the excuse to dress up nicely and draw all gazes to him, because if there’s one thing Ten will never do it’s to purposely dress down to blend in. No, if he can outshine everyone else then he will. 

He likes the glamour, the glittering chandeliers and light champagne and beautiful men and women who speak with hushed voices. For someone who spent his first 18 years in a sterile laboratory with no friends but the scientists who sometimes took pity on him and engaged in conversation with him (until they grew tired of his brattiness and excessive teasing), getting to simply experience such lavishness makes his mind spin a little.

Because it’s a Christmas ball, Ten is wearing something a little extra, even for him. It’s a long robe made from deep red, almost black, layered mesh and with tiny glass pearls neatly stitched onto the fabric. They’re so small they’re almost invisible, simply sparkling faintly whenever they catch the light. 

As usual, Ten is standing by the edge of the dance floor, watching his owner lead a pretty woman through a polite dance. Ten knows it’s just a formality, but he still aches to trade places with the woman; a dog can’t dance with its owner at a ball, simply watch with envy as Johnny lazily twirls his partner. The ceiling lights perfectly illuminate his hair, now blonde and a little longer, courtesy of Ten and his superb sense of fashion. 

It makes Johnny look manlier, bringing out his beautiful features. He’s wearing a black suit with burgundy details, subtly matching Ten.

He looked stunning and Ten wants to devour him. Hungrily following his owner with greedy eyes, Ten’s ever present urge to cause disruption and chaos stirs inside of him, not unlike a monster stretching its scaly limbs. Ten feels it like an itch underneath his skin; that want, that  _ need _ , to feel everyone’s eyes on him as he tears through the atmosphere like a hurricane, making a ruckus.

God, he wants to cause a fucking  _ scene _ .

Ten licks his lips, staying put by sternly reminding himself about the consequences for Johnny if he puts as much as a toe out of line. My mind is free though, he resonates, imagining what would happen if he marched right up to Johnny and ripped him out of his dance partner’s claws. Maybe he’d kiss him, right there on the dance floor, in front of everyone. Bet they’d be shocked so prettily, stunned silly by the sheer insanity of Ten. 

It’s a beautiful imaginary scenario.

The music clings off, the couples on the dance floor slowing to a halt before releasing their grips on each other and bowing stiffly. Ten spots Doyoung, the uptight scientist lured to what’s presumably his first and last party of the year. Somehow the rabbit-looking prude has snatched the most ethereal man in the room, a doe-eyed beauty of a model whose name Ten cannot recall at the moment but is sure he’ll recognise the moment he hears it. The kind of name Ten knows he’s seen next to the unforgettable face, on the previews of holo-magazines. 

Johnny starts walking towards Ten with his dance partner in towe. They lock eyes and Johnny beckons him over with a small wave. The dance seems to be over for the moment, couples scattering, and Ten easily makes his way between them. His feet are naked, both as a fashion statement, to create a contrast with the extravagant robe and because it’s convenient. The black marble tiles, scrubbed clean by dogs who probably don’t get fed enough, is cold beneath the soles of his feet but Ten would rather be a little cold than force his poor feet into clammy and uncomfortable shoes. 

Besides, the no-shoes look makes him look absolutely delectable, if Johnny’s dark stares are anything to go by. 

“This is my dog” Johnny says as Ten comes up to them, the cold statement somewhat soothed by the way he extends his arm and slides it around Ten’s waist. His big palm drifts to rest on the curve of his hip bone, Ten trying not to feel smug about the longing gaze the woman accidentally lets stray towards Johnny’s arm. It doesn’t take a thorough psychoanalysis to figure out that she wants that same arm around her.

“How lovely” she manages, a dazzling smile almost covering up her momentary slip-up. Almost. Ten doesn’t forget quite so easily, entirely unpurposely and without any ulterior motives leaning more into Johnny’s touch. “What’s his name?”

“Ten” Ten responds although she’d directed the question at Johnny. As expected, her face twitches, his response catching her off-guard. Personally, Ten thinks she’s the rude one for acting like he isn’t there, but since he’s a dog he guesses he’ll have to be lenient: it’s nothing personal. She’s just judgemental. And bad at masking her feelings, Ten thinks as she schools her expression back into a cheerful one before turning fully to him.

“As the number?” she asks and Ten’s smile loses whatever grain of genuinity that could possibly have been found with the use of a microscope. While he understands the response provoked by his name, it got repetitive after the first forty times. 

“Yes” he responds. “Unless you’d prefer Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul?”

Johnny coughs, a poor attempt at concealing his chuckle, and Ten feels victory burn like a blazing fire in his chest. He barely manages to contain the triumphant smile he wants to smack in the unknown woman’s face. Take that, he wants to say. You got to dance with him, but I can make fun of you all I want and get away with it.

Not that any of it matters; at the end of the day, Ten will be the one going home with Johnny either way. But a little harmless, childish teasing out of pettiness and jealousy never hurt no one, did it?

Ten might not own his own life by juridical papers, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t own this stranger who dares to look at Johnny like that after she already got to dance with him. The  _ audacity _ of some people. 

The woman looks a little confused, as if she can sense some silent conversation going on between the two men, or registered that a joke just went right above her head. Ten guesses it’s a little of both, and almost feels bad for her. Bold, cursive ‘almost’ in all caps. Mainly he kind of wants to tear her hair out. 

“I… Ten is fine” she says, sounding unsure of how she’s supposed to respond. She quickly regains posture, clearing her throat. “I love your robe, where did you buy it?”

Ten tries not to glare at her for being so dead set on butting into his business. 

“Can’t recall” he says stiffly. Johnny either doesn’t notice the hostile energy between them, or purposely ignores it, because he takes the deep red velvet leash connected to Ten’s diamond choker and pushes it into the lady’s hands.

“I’m going to get a drink” he says easily, not paying Ten’s scathing glares any mind. “You look after him for a minute, will you?”   
Ten thinks it’s ironic how the two of them stare longingly after Johnny as he leaves, both following his steps towards the bar with their eyes. 

“I’m sorry” the lady says and Ten tears his gaze away from Johnny’s to look at her. She’s smiling, cheeks a little rosy as if she’s embarrassed. “I don’t want to seem pushy but can I ask a question?”   
Ten nods mutely, assuming what’s coming but not wanting to jinx it. 

“Does Johnny have a girlfriend?” she asks with a low voice, eagerness evident in her eyes as she leans forward a little. Ten feels a spike of annoyance; if he weren’t a dog he would have slapped her over the head and told her to stop lusting after his boyfriend. Hell, she wouldn’t even think she stood a chance because Ten would have already spent the whole ball glued to Johnny’s side. 

“No” Ten says slowly, unable to resist carrying on when he sees the hopeful smile gracing her features. “But  _ unfortunately _ I don’t think you’re his type”

Either the lady catches the venomous sarcasm dripping from the word ‘unfortunately’ or she doesn’t know how to give up because her smile isn’t replaced by acceptance but by irritation. 

“Oh” she scoffs. “And may I ask how you’re so sure of that?”   
A smirk slowly graces Ten’s face. Truthfully, he has no idea about Johnny’s sexual orientation. He knows he’s never had a girlfriend because of how all-consuming his work is, and he knows that most of the one-night-only-lovers he’s brought home during the time they’ve known each other have been female… apart from the petite, asian twink-looking ones whose appearances seemed to be coordinated with the days Ten was a little extra flirty. 

But currently, Ten is very much the one getting to sit on Johnny’s dick and he’d claw this stranger’s eyes out before letting her think she stands a chance. 

“Because” Ten says slowly, feeling that pleasant tingle that always fills him when he’s about to cause trouble and he knows it. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but truly who would believe a random nobody like this woman? Who’d value her word alone above Johnny’s? Rumours spread everyday and people have learnt not to trust anything as long as they don’t have video evidence that’s been proved to be unedited. “Johnny doesn’t swing that way”   
Ten relishes in the way his words slowly sink in, the woman’s eyes widening. It’s both amusing and satisfying, seeing her slowly understand Ten’s implications. It’s a shitty thing, outing someone like this, but Ten wants her to back off. He doesn’t even own his life, he’s allowed to be a little selfish every once in a while. 

After the initial shock has passed, the lady narrows her eyes, her knuckles whitening as she tightens her grip on the leash.

“And may I ask how his  _ dog _ ” she starts, showing her true colours with the way she spits out the word ‘dog’, “knows anything about the matter?”

Ten chuckles darkly, shivering at the pleasant rush of absolute power that washes through him. 

“Well” he mumbles, smoothing out some non-existent creases from his robe. “Why do you think it is that neither of us have found ourselves a lover yet?”

Rewarded by a shocked gasp and a gaping mouth, Ten can’t help but feel a little smug at his dramatic and cryptic confession. The lady is stuttering, unable to form coherent words.

“Are you implying-” she breathes, clearly shocked. Relationships between dogs and their owners are not unheard of, but due to the stigma it’s usually a business that’s hushed down. Especially among people as rich and influential as Johnny. 

“I’m not implying anything “ Ten says calmly “except for what you choose to think I’m implying”   
The lady swallows, the movement causing a ripple in the sparkling rubies adorning her collarbones. Ten’s gaze hardens.

“But I warn you” he says, voice low “to walk around talking too freely about this. Spreading rumours is never any good, especially when they’re based on mere assumptions hm?”

She swallows. 

“Is that a threat?” she whispers. She doesn’t sound offended, simply asking as if she’d like to know in order to decide how to proceed. It’s amazing how her respect for Ten has increased since she learnt his relationship with Johnny. 

Ten licks his lips. 

“Depends” he says calmly. “On whether or not you give me reason for it to be. You won’t do that, will you?”

The woman shakes her head. 

“Of course not” she says, voice louder and head held higher. She smiles at Ten, and if Ten didn’t know better he’d assume the two had just had a normal conversation. “Excuse me” 

She bows her head curtly before turning around to walk away. Ten watches her leave with poorly concealed joy, grinning smugly to himself as Johnny materialises behind him.

“Did she leave already?”   
Ten swirls around, teeth glinting brighter than his jewelry as he snatches one of the two champagne glasses Johnny is carrying, right out of his hand.

“Unfortunately” he says, unable to keep the glee from leaking into his voice. Johnny eyes Ten suspiciously, sensing that there’s something off. 

“What?” Ten questions, raising an eyebrow at Johnny’s inquiring gaze. 

“What did you say to her?” Johnny asks, his frown revealing that he doesn’t expect a pleasant response. Ten sips his champagne, humming faux-innocently with his lips on the glass edge. 

“Nothing” he says, meeting Johnny’s eyes, “that she didn’t need to hear”

Johnny tenses up slightly at this, narrowing his eyes at Ten who carefreely sips his champagne. 

“Nothing” he parrots Ten slowly, voice wary, “that would get us in trouble I hope?”

Ten looks up at Johnny, his eyes glittering black under long, curved eyelashes. 

“Of course not” he lies smoothly, his rib cage fluttering with the lie, the  _ secret _ , he’s harbouring there. He doesn’t know if his smile is too sweet, or his voice too airy, but Johnny doesn’t look convinced in the slightest. He’s eyeing Ten as if he’s an enigma to be solved, a most tricky equation. 

Ten loves it, loves being on the receiving end of Johnny’s attention like this. It makes him shiver, makes him want more. Ten enjoys attention in all forms, but something about the weight of Johnny’s eyes on him makes him tingle a little extra. 

“You’re a menace” Johnny finally decides, shaking his head. He drinks his champagne, as if needing the alcohol for extra strength. Ten thinks that he always wants Johnny to be like that, seeking extra strength in order to handle Ten and his whims. He wants Johnny to always be a little unstable, a little thrown off balance by the chaotic forces Ten barrels through existence with. He wants to be the only one who does that to Johnny. 

“That I am” he agrees, letting the tip of his tongue slide along the edge of his champagne glass, “a menace. A hazard… A pain in the fucking ass”

Ten licks his lips, slowly and deliciously, making a show of it. He catches Johnny’s gaze straying. 

“And yet” he says coyly, gathering the velvet leash and holding it out for Johnny to take, “you keep craving more”

Johnny looks like he can’t breathe, an intense fire burning in his eyes. Ten decides he wants to see that look on him, always. 

“Go on” Ten says, nodding towards the leash in his hand. “Take it. Take it and you’ll see”

Johnny swallows, heeding Ten’s words and grabbing the soft fabric. The ball has faded away, become distant white noise, static that crackles at the very back of Ten’s consciousness. Unimportant. 

“What?” Johnny asks, searching Ten for answers. “See what, Ten?”

Ten smiles deviously, hoping he looks as dangerous as he feels. 

“That despite what anyone thinks, I’m not actually the one on a leash”

~ 

Yukhei thinks that sometimes, it’s the smallest details that come together and truly present the bigger picture. That, in order to really see what’s hiding in plain sight, you have to look past the obvious and see the tiny signs, the things they come together to to show in a constellation of absolute truth. 

Right now, Yukhei thinks that Johnny is lucky most people in the room don’t have advanced smelling because the pheromones he’s reeking of aren’t family-friendly. With the way his hand is resting seemingly innocently on the small of Ten’s back makes it hard to miss who the cause for it might be. In Mark’s case, Yukhei doesn’t even need to smell the pheromones he is releasing to know how absolutely furious he is; his entire frame is shaking, fists clenched so hard Yukhei almost swears he can distinguish the faint scent of blood amidst the stench of rage. 

“Johnny” the younger man seethes, making Johnny raise an eyebrow. He clears his throat, and outwardly he looks calm but the smell of Mark’s anger is blending with the acidic scent of panic. It makes Yukhei scrunch up his nose because he really, really hates that smell. 

“Yes?” Johnny asks, sounding genuinely confused about why Mark has marched up to him in the middle of the ball. 

“Can I speak to you?” Mark hisses. “In private?”

Johnny glances at Ten, his hand slipping from his back. Ten nods encouragingly, muttering something that even Yukhei can’t distinguish. 

“Yukhei, stay here and keep Ten company” Johnny commands, in that voice reserved for dogs that aren’t his own. Yukhei doesn’t take offense, but Mark’s gaze is clouded by something dark. Yukhei clamps a big palm down on Mark’s shoulder squeezing it for support. Only he might have miscalculated the amount of force used, because Mark grimaces in pain and Yukhei immediately lets go with an apology. It’s Johnny’s turn to glare scaldingly, squaring up as he walks away, motioning for Mark to follow him. Yukhei watches Mark as he leaves, his guard dog instincts tugging at him, screaming that he should follow Mark and keep him safe. 

Yukhei never had formal training, but he has some of the basic instincts of a guard dog, genes bred down from dogs who for reasons unbeknownst to him were never castrated. 

Yes, Yukhei knows where he’s from. Unlike Kun and Doyoung who treated him like an animal, Renjun was oddly much like a friend, perhaps in ways that could very much get him into trouble. He told him, truthfully answered every question Yukhei had. 

“Ah, the smell of testosterone”

Yukhei jerks out of his thoughts, mentally cursing himself for losing track of his surroundings and letting his guard down.

“I’m sorry?” he asks, staring blankly at Ten who rolls his eyes.

“The two of them” he says as if it’s obvious, gesturing towards the shrinking figures of Johnny and Mark. Judging by their postures and matching frowns, the argument has already started boiling between them. “All at each other’s throats”

Yukhei nods in understanding. 

“Ah” he says and Ten rolls his eyes again, but this time at Yukhei. As if Yukhei’s done something he’s failed to understand is embarrassing. 

Ten relaxes further, raising his champagne glass to down some alcohol. Yukhei knows from this alone that he doesn’t have a drop of guard dog blood in him; Yukhei would be caught dead before he let his guard down like that anywhere outside of his and Mark’s apartment. 

“So” Ten says, breaking the silence yet again, “what’s the deal with like, not wearing a collar?”

He gestures towards Yukhei’s general neck area, where any sort of leash or collar indeed is missing. 

“Is it really appropriate?” Ten quizzes without giving him time to formulate a response in comprehensible korean. “Aren’t people gonna get the wrong idea?”   
Yukhei can’t help but snort at this, the scornful chuckle not sneaking past Ten whose eyes immediately narrow. 

“What?” he asks, sounding like he’s trying to remain cool but failing to completely hide his curiosity. 

“I’m just surprised to hear that from you” Yukhei says calmly. “With the way your man was stinking up the place with his pheromones earlier”

Ten flushes ever so slightly, nose turning darker so faintly that a normal person wouldn’t even notice it. But Yukhei does and he takes a mental note. 

“Guard dog huh?” he guesses and Yukhei nods, scratching his arm. Being away from Mark, in an unsafe environment with Mark out of his sight doing god knows what, has him anxious.

“Yes” he says. “And no”

Ten raises an eyebrow, trying and failing to appear uninterested. He hums quietly to himself, throwing his head back to down the last of his drink. 

“What” he starts, giving his empty glass to a passing waiter “do you mean by that?”

Ten’s dark red gown has some sort of crystals sewn onto it and their sparkling throws Yukhei off a little, distracting him with how brightly they twinkle.

“I’m his his guard” Yukhei explains, posture tall and rigid as always when he’s in uncharted territory, “but I’m not his dog”

Ten frowns, hiking his robe up his shoulder where it has slipped a little, revealing more skin than what’s appropriate for a gala of this kind. 

“You are though” he objects, and Yukhei detects irritation in his voice. As if the answer touches upon something unpleasant. “He owns you”

Yukhei studies Ten, his alcohol-flushed cheeks and neatly painted makeup. His nails that are deep red, so dark that they almost appear black.The way his small frame seems to tower over Yukhei, as if his petite build carries a force of destruction that might shock him.

“Does Johnny own you?” Yukhei counters, calmly, watching as Ten’s eyes widen. From the way he shifts uncomfortably, swallowing, Yukhei knows he’s hit the jackpot. 

“I…” Ten starts, clearing his throat and glaring at Yukhei as if to regain leverage he never had. “Johnny’s not.. we…”

“He owns you” Yukhei repeats. “That was how you put it, wasn’t it?”

Ten’s eyes flicker, his eyes filled with what looks like dejection but also anger. 

“It’s… it’s different” he tries, stubborn into the very last. Yukhei tilts his head, looking at Ten from a 30 degrees angle. 

“From me and Mark?” he says calmly. ”Yes it is. Mark isn’t my owner. He’s my boyfriend”   
An electric shock seems to run through Ten at this, the man jolting at Yukhei’s words and dropping his earlier (poor) attempts at looking unbothered. He’s staring, gawking at Yukhei, and Yukhei doesn’t even need advanced hearing to know that the cogs are turning behind Ten’s unblemished forehead.

“He’s not” Ten whispers, a last ditch effort at clinging to what he knows. What’s safe. 

“He is” Yukhei says, and when he sees the envy and desperation swirling in Ten’s eyes, he knows he’s someone to trust. He can just feel it. “We’re running away”

Ten doesn’t even seem shocked anymore, simply heaving a deep sigh, shoulders slumping. 

“Of course you are” he says tiredly. 

“You should come” Yukhei offers without thinking and Ten glares at him as if it’s the most stupid thing he’s ever heard. 

“ _ Come _ ?” he imitates Yukhei’s tone, mockingly so. “You mean  _ leave _ ?”

Yukhei shrugs. 

“It’s the same, isn’t it?” he asks and it was evidently the wrong thing to say because Ten’s eyes spark with anger. 

“For you it might be” he snarls. “But for me they’re two very different words. I can’t come with you because that would mean leaving Johnny. And I can’t do that, okay?”

“So you’re going to stay with someone who owns you?” Yukhei asks incredulously, already regretting his offer. Ten is obviously more airheaded than he’d initially thought. “Someone who profits off of selling others?”

Ten winces, looking away.

“It’s easy for you to go all preachy” Ten says bitterly. “But I was raised in a lab. Four white walls and no friends until I was 18 years old and a handsome man told me he wanted me. I’ve lived like this for years Yukhei: you were taken in mere months ago. For me, this is my life.  _ He _ is my life. I can’t leave him”

Yukhei tries to piece it together, tries to make sense of the strange puzzle that is Ten. 

“A golden cage is still a cage” he points out and Ten scoffs.

“Don’t you  _ dare _ ” he says darkly, dripping with the strong smell of rage. ”I’m selfish, but not nearly as much as you think. This has nothing to do with money”

Yukhei frowns. Ten seemed so easy at first, so simple and quick for Yukhei to understand. It’s like the more Yukhei reads into Ten, the more complex he becomes; the more stuck up and annoying he turns.

“I love him” Ten says lowly. “And you better get that into your skull, because I’m not saying it again”

“Oh” Yukhei says, because that definitely changes everything. 

“Yeah, ‘oh’” Ten says, shaking his head. “While you seduced someone who’s never stepped foot in an office, I’m with someone who’s whole career, whole life, is built on the same foundation as the building we’re standing in”

Yukhei feels a tingle of anger in his chest, a faint flicker of anger that makes him want to pull his lips back and growl. 

“I like him” Yukhei says fiercely. “I might have seen him as a tool first but I really, really like him now”

Ten looks at Yukhei, the soft lighting of the chandeliers illuminating the diamonds around his neck. They stand in contrast to his coalblack eyes, two pools of far greater mystery than the shallow golddigger Yukhei had passed him off as. He can see the chaos, the defiance brewing inside of Ten, but also hear the devotion for Johnny and it confuses him. In his book, freedom stands before any man. 

“I won’t tell on you” Ten finally says. “I’ll let you exit as quietly and suddenly as you like, and pull out my finest acting skills for when Johnny is eventually heartbroken over his baby brother’s departure”

Yukhei’s face is blank.

“If you’re trying to guilt trip me” he says. “It’s not working. Johnny is no one to me”

Ten laughs quietly, humourlessly. 

“I figured” he says. “Well, it didn’t hurt to try, did it?”

Upon receiving no response, Ten straightens his back and gathers the fabric of his robes in his hands. As the skirts lift from the floor, a pair of pale feet are revealed and Yukhei wonders if it isn’t cold to walk barefoot on marble floor. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me” he says curtly, “I’m going to find Johnny”

Yukhei says nothing, watching as Ten storms off in the direction the two brothers had disappeared in. As he passes, a faint whiff of a perfume washes over Yukhei, once again reminding Yukhei of how very different they are despite both being dogs.

Yukhei guesses, it’s not all in the genes.

~

Johnny is strangely quiet during the elevator ride back to their floor. 

Ten keeps stealing glances at him, hoping he’s stealthy while knowing he’s probably everything but. He’s shrugged his robe off the shoulders to cool himself down a little, but not even the sight of his naked skin can draw Johnny’s attention away from whatever it is he’s thinking of. Ten shivers a little, cold in his thin clothes, and wishes Johnny would look at him already. Tell him what it is that’s occupying his mind.

His hair, earlier carefully gelled back, has loosened. A couple of strands have freed themselves and are falling prettily over his forehead. Ten wants to gently stroke them away from his features and tuck them behind his ears. Then Yukhei’s words echo in his head and he decides to not do that. 

“What are you thinking of?” Johnny asks, as if he can sense through mind-reading that Ten has stopped thinking about him for a split second. Who’s the attention whore now, Ten thinks and glares at Johnny who’s still staring straight ahead of him without meeting Ten’s gaze.

“Could ask you the same” Ten mutters, hoping Johnny will take the bait and tell him what the hell has got him so blue. 

Sometimes Ten feels like despite being so close to Johnny, so close that they’re almost touching, they’re worlds apart. Even though he can physically stretch those few short inches and touch Johnny, curl a hand around his shoulder, rest his head against his chest, there’s another distance between them that’s far longer. Oceans and oceans of unbreachable space that Ten has tried to blast away for years with everything that his explosive persona can carry.

Ten hasn’t given it any thought in a while, thinking that sleeping with Johnny was the final step to cross the gap. But after speaking to Yukhei, after watching Johnny quietly mull over his thoughts, Ten understands with a crushed heart that he might have to rethink that.

The gap is still between them, as deep and unbreachable as ever. That mental threshold that makes it impossible for Ten to take that final leap from being the person closest to Johnny, to moulding together with him. Become one.

“Mark was angry” Johnny finally admits and Ten remains quiet, silently conveying that he wants Johnny to carry on. Outside the glass wall of the elevator, skyscrapers zoom past them. Ten looks at the clock on the wall, seeing that there’s still two minutes left until they’re at their level and floor. 

“Told me I was a hypocrite”

Ten hums noncommittally, studying their reflections in the elevator mirror. 

“Were you?” Ten asks, knowing full well that the flawless Johnny he’s built up in his mind is far from the full picture. Somehow, people are different from pictures: the closer you get to a picture, the better you spot the details and can dissect it, understanding the full motive. The closer you get to a human however, the blurrier their pixels become, the more diffuse the lines grow, until you can no longer distinguish their rights from wrongs, their faults and flaws from virtues and goodness. 

Johnny scratches the back of his head. 

“I told him he shouldn’t tie personal relationships to his guard dog” Johnny admits, at least having the decency to sound unsure of himself. “Back when he got Yukhei” 

Ten narrows his eyes. 

“That  _ is _ hypocritical” Ten points out with a sour voice. “Terribly hypocritical of you, actually”

Johnny grimaces. 

“I… yeah, maybe” he admits, the elevator cutting him off with a soft ding as they arrive on the right floor. The automatic doors slide open without noise and they step outside, footsteps muffled by carpets so thick that they sink down to their ankles in them. With the faint light from the ceiling, the shadows on Johnny’s face are soft and barely-there. Ten thinks that although the physical distance between them is shorter than it’s ever been, he feels as though they’re further apart than ever. 

“But we’re different” Johnny says, without looking at Ten as they walk up to the door to Johnny’s flat. Ten feels his heart catching in his throat. Different how, he wants to ask. This is it. The moments where Johnny either demolishes the space between them or burns any form of bridge for them to cross. “From Mark and Yukhei”

“How?” Ten croaks out, watching Johnny fumble with his keys with trembling hands. They jingle softly and Ten finds solitude in the sound. It’s a blessing in disguise that electric keys can be hacked, because there’s something a lot more homely about old-school metal keys.

Johnny opens the door and they enter the apartment. It’s dark, and Ten is reminded by the night they first slept with each other, the deja vu hitting him like a freight train in the solar plexus. He feels the everpresent storm within stir, restlessly yearning for making a fuzz, move the pieces and make something happen. 

They’ve been stuck at check for too long. 

He takes a deep breath. 

“How are we different Johnny?” he asks, voice sturdier than he’d thought it would be. 

_ Checkmate _ . 

Johnny sighs, rubbing his face. For being the moment that either makes or breaks them, it’s awfully anticlimactic; there are no sirens, no fireworks, only the empty apartment clothed in darkness, and Ten’s rapid heartbeat pounding through the silence. 

“I…” Johnny starts before closing his mouth, swallowing. Ten stands as still as a statue, waiting for the other shoe to drop.   
Johnny’s face is hidden in shadows and Ten cannot make out his facial features.

“We’re we” he breathes out. “I can’t explain it, Ten”

And Ten stares at Johnny as he turns around with an apologetic expression, and he wonders how Johnny slipped out of answering yet again. So much for checkmate. 

Johnny runs his hand through Ten’s hair, letting in wander across his scalp and scratch behind his ear. Ten’s eyes flutter shut for a split second before the palm moves again, sliding underneath his chin to cup his cheek. Ten’s head is tilted upwards and he’s staring up at two pools of darkness.

“Tell me what you want” Johnny says, unexpectedly. Ten’s mouth falls open in surprise and he doesn’t know how to respond.

“What?” he asks, confused by Johnny’s sudden question. It’s out of the blue, and he doesn’t know if he dares interpret it. Johnny takes a step closer, crowding Ten.

“Tell me” Johnny says with a low and raspy voice, “what you want from me, and I’ll give it to you”

Ten has to focus on breathing, in and out, to not explode, spreading bits and pieces of himself all over the flat. He touches Johnny’s neck, the only part of him that’s fully exposed for Ten to feel. His skin is hot against the pads of Ten’s fingers and Johnny sighs at the contact.

“I want to be inside your skin” Ten whispers, unsure of how to express his love without breaking the silent agreement to pretend like everything is normal between them. “I want… I want to crawl in under your skin and stay there”

If Johnny is put off or weirded out by Ten’s request, he’s good at hiding it, for he simply nods in understanding and carefully wraps his arms around Ten. He needs to look down a little in order to meet Ten’s gaze, and if Ten was in a more playful mood he’d swat him over the head for making fun of his height. 

“What else do you want?” he asks calmly. “What should I give to you?”

Ten thinks he should respond that Johnny doesn’t need to give him anything. That he’s good with their current arrangement, where they’re with each other without ever saying the dangerous words. But Ten is selfish. 

He doesn’t just want Johnny. Sure, he loves to want him, but he wants to  _ love _ him.

“I want to breathe you in” he says, because he knows he can’t say that. Can’t spell out what they both know they can’t have. “I want you under my nails, down my throat, in my hair. I want you in every way possible, Johnny”

Johnny lets his head sink down in the crook of Ten’s neck, inhaling his skin and his scent in a way that sends electric shocks through Ten’s entire body. 

“You have me” Johnny says simply. “You have all of me”

It’s not a confession, it’s not those stupid words that Ten aches so pathetically to hear, but it’s something in the way. It’s something that Ten can look at and think that it’s good for now, before he surges forwards and kisses Johnny so eagerly that he almost misses his face entirely. 

He can dissect it later. 

~

Renjun hates writing reports. 

He knew it was what being a scientist would be about, and he truly doesn’t mind reporting on the scientific progress they make. It’s just that writing reports on the estimated worth of the assets they’ve managed to plant in their latest dog is far from what Renjun considers worthy a scientist. 

He scowls at the tauntingly blank lines on the white paper in front of him, wondering what nutjob it was who decided it’d be a good idea to use old school papers instead of digital documents. It’s boring, so mind-numbingly, excruciatingly  _ boring _ , and Renjun wants to die. 

He slams his head against the desk, dramatically, hoping that the noise will attract some sort of attention or sympathy. His attempts are rewarded with a scoff from somewhere behind him. 

“Don’t scramble the few brain cells you have left” a snarky voice tells him, sounding half joking and half serious. 

Renjun’s head shoots up again and he glares at his older friend, eyebrows pinched together so harshly that it almost hurts. However he’ll take sharp jabs over no attention at all any day of the week. 

“Shut the fuck up” he responds, making Doyoung raise his eyebrows at the crude language. Renjun knows he’s the kind of boring asshole who thinks you should keep your dialogue professional at work, and there’s nothing on earth Renjun takes greater pleasure in than abusing his rules with use of the science prodigy card; while any other scientist in the lab might get a warning for using such nasty words, Renjun is more valuable than all of them together and they’d never discard him for something as silly as a curse or two. Or three. 

In one sentence.

Renjun sticks his tongue out. His age also helps his case, because really, who can expect a boy his age to be polite? Especially when he happened to grow up in a science lab, raised by the likes of Charles Darwin and other bearded men gracing the covers of dusty books.

“Language, young man” Doyoung still reminds him, because he has a stick up his ass like that. Renjun just rolls his eyes.

“I might when you start using digital documents” he says begrudgingly, earning himself a scornful look from Doyoung.

“They’re hackable” he says, like a pre-programmed robot, as if Renjun doesn’t know that. “Besides, you’d just auto-fill them”

“Exactly!” Renjun exclaims frustratedly, waving with the flimsy paper documents in Doyoung’s face. “This takes ages! It’s  _ such _ a waste of my time and potential”

Doyoung flinches a little at the sudden attack and his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose. He angrily pushes them up again, scrunching his face up in a way that reminds Renjun of a rabbit.

“Humbleness is a virtue you know” he huffs and Renjun chortles.

“Give me a break” he deadpans. “We both know I could do everyone in this lab’s jobs, in half the time. This?”

He waves the papers in Doyoung’s face again, hoping to prompt the same reaction as before but unfortunately not receiving anything more exciting than an angry swat to the arm. 

“It's a waste of my time” Renjun stresses. He knows he’s being an insufferable brat, but he didn’t give up his entire childhood in a dusty library to write reports like these. This isn’t science, this is business. 

“You should be happy you get to do what you love” Doyoung points out sharply, making a pinprick or guilt sting in Renjun’s belly. “Not a lot of people are granted that privilege.”

Renjun feels himself flush with embarrassment, but he’s nothing if not stubborn and he’d die before telling Doyoung he’s right. 

“This is not science” he grumbles with disgust, glaring at the documents in his hand. “This is dehumanisation”

Doyoung looks strangely at Renjun, as if he hadn’t expected that. His twist of features annoy Renjun, who never bothered hiding his friendship with Yukhei, or any of the dogs for that matter. Is it really such a shock that he doesn’t condone the cruel ways they’re treated? Jesus christ, who are they taking him for?

“What?” he barks out. “Cat got your tongue? Is it really that surprising that I have compassion?”

Doyoung shakes himself out of his stupor and schools his expression.

“Yes” he says honestly. “Considering how much of a selfish kid you usually are”

Renjun glares so hard at Doyoung that his eyebrows hurt. 

“Fuck you” he sniffs. “Just because I hate every human I’ve met doesn’t mean I have to hate the hybrids too”

Doyoung sighs and massages his temple, as if the word ‘fuck’ causes him an actual headache, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“You know” he says instead, “it’s good that you care. I wish I cared more”

Renjun perks up at this surprising confession. To him, Doyoung has always been that dry scientist that stuck a little too close to every rule and agreement, rarely ever leaving room to act freely. Maybe there’s more underneath that polished surface than Renjun had cared to look for.

“You don’t?” he asks. “Care, that is”

Doyoung looks at him with an unreadable, blank expression. His arms are crossed over his buttoned, white coat and his eyes glint behind steel spectacle frames. 

“I do” he says slowly. “But not enough to risk my work or reputation for it. Does that make me coldhearted? Maybe. But it’s the way it is”

Renjun shrugs.

“Nah, it just makes you a coward” he says, because it’s true. No matter how much you disapprove of something, lest you actively work against it you’re always helping its case. 

“And you’re not?” 

Renjun’s first instinct is to get angry, angry at the insinuation that he wouldn’t risk it all for the compassion he holds for the poor people bred into slavery. As always, ever since he was a child and would hit the other kids when they took his toys, his hands have balled into fists before he has the time to think. 

But because Renjun is no longer a child, he takes a deep breath and wills his body to calm down. He relaxes and breathes, and thinks. Doyoung is essentially right; Renjun has done next to nothing to help the dogs’ case, except for maybe interacting with them from time to time, giving them company in the cold, lonesome and boring laboratory they’re born and raised in. As much as he’d like to, he can’t really act a saint. 

He takes a deep breath.

“Just because I haven’t done something yet” he says lowly, measuredly, “doesn’t mean I wouldn’t. I just… I just don’t know where to start”

It’s not a lie. Renjun has spent a lot of those lonely workdays in the laboratory daydreaming, when the reports have been written and none of the adults around him want to engage in a game with the snarky, bratty child. Daydreaming about ways to help dogs escape their owners without their tracker devices or registration getting in the way. Ways to increase their rights. Anything.

Renjun has looked into the eyes of them, has spoken to them, and he knows they’re no less human than he is.

“You know Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul?” Doyoung suddenly says. His voice is strange, words coming out slow as if he thinks them through carefully before speaking. “He goes by the nickname Ten, given to him by Johnny”   
Renjun frowns, not understanding Doyoung’s sudden question but nodding nonetheless.

“Yeah” he says. “I’ve seen him at galas, and in the lab a couple of times. The short Thai one with dark hair, right? The one who’s almost always at Johnny’s side”

Doyoung nods, mechanically so.

“He’s a defect” Doyoung says, which surprises Renjun. “Due to a mistake, his genetic codes got scrambled”

Renjun holds a hand up to halt Doyoung’s monologue, a deep crease between his furrowed brows. 

“Aren’t defects to be aborted?” he asks curiously. “Can I look at his files?”

“Ten doesn’t have any files” Doyoung confesses monotonously and Renjun feels a stab of irritation at no non-cooperational he’s being. “Because headquarters decided to use him for something else”

Renjun feels dread rise like bile in his throat at Doyoung’s words, the way he speaks so cryptically and ominously. Doyoung looks him dead in the eyes.

“He’s not castrated, Renjun” Doyoung says. It hits Renjun like a punch in the gut because all hybrids are castrated, and Renjun doesn’t even want to know why they chose not to castrate Ten.

“But that’s illegal” Renjun breathes, the words he never thought he’d use against Doyoung of all people. 

“As if they care” Doyoung spits. “We put him under Johnny’s care and since Johnny’s infatuated that’s where he’ll remain until we find a suitable female counterpart”

Renjun swallows, head swimming with this new information. His palms feel clammy and his stomach is tying itself into knots. He cannot comprehend why Doyoung is telling him all of this, and why now?   
“Why?” he asks and swallows again to clear his throat. “Why are you telling me this?”

Doyoung takes the documents that Renjun has been squeezing in his sweaty hand, gently folding them. 

“Ten isn’t registered” he says calmly. “Because what they're planning to do with him is illegal. Neither is he traceable. He basically doesn’t exist in our computers. The perfectly kept secret”

Renjun wipes his palms on his coat, the fluorescent ceiling suddenly pricking his eyes like needles.

“What do you want me to do?” he tries to ask, yet again desperately searching for answers when none are provided. 

Doyoung just smiles, a tiny attempt at reassuring the kid who spoke bold game until it became too real. 

“What I couldn’t” he says simply. “Whatever you feel is right. Make a difference”

And then he turns around and leaves, Renjun remaining where he’s standing, wondering if the past few minutes were just one, long, exhaustion-induced hallucination.

~ 

Sometimes, Johnny wonders if it’s worth it. He’s a businessman, and he knows about the risk or reward dilemma. Is the risk really worth the reward? 

His opinion swings constantly, like a pendulum, giving him a whiplash. One day he can think it’s for the best if he ends their arrangement and finds some other place for a defect like Ten, zone out in the middle of meetings thinking about the best way to drop such a bomb. Then he comes home to find Ten lounging on the couch dressed in a diamond encrusted satin robe, and as a steady plume of smoke rises from his cigarette a flip switches inside of Johnny. Any doubt is erased and suddenly he feels guilty for even considering leaving Ten. Even if he at times wishes to, there’s simply no way he could ever say no to the temptation that is Ten. 

Everything about him is intoxicating, luring Johnny in and holding him down until he feels ready to drown in Ten. Today, Ten is a little extra hard to resist.

They’re lying on Johnny’s humongous sofa together, legs tangled and both wrapped up in their own little worlds; Ten is immersed in the soap opera playing on the 3D screen that stretches across the entirety of Johnny’s wall, and Johnny is immersed in Ten. Funnily, or perhaps pathetically enough he finds that watching the little changes in Ten’s expression are just as entertaining as the drama that’s playing out on the screen. 

Johnny especially likes the way Ten’s mouth quirks a little when something funny happens, and the way his brows curve into a slight frown whenever events in the show don’t proceed quite as they should. Sometimes he heaves little frustrated puffs, or displeased whines, and Johnny is embarrassed of how bad he’s got it for his dog.

Lately, Johnny’s having a hard time holding back from indulging himself in Ten, and worryingly enough it’s also becoming increasingly hard to deny the dangerous tint to the feelings swirling inside of him. There was a time when Johnny could ignore it, but it seems like the closer he gets to Ten the harder it is to shut down that little voice that’s whispering to him to take things a step further. The voice that seemed harmless when it told him to kiss Ten is growing louder, suggesting more and more outrageous things. 

Outrageous, yet tempting nonetheless. Things like crawling over Ten and kissing him square on the mouth while whispering how much Johnny lo-

Johnny swallows, tearing his gaze from Ten before he’s allowed his mind to stray too far into dangerous territory. On the glass screen, overdramatic housewives have been replaced by a documentary about what Johnny guesses must be marine life before the mass extinction. Slightly grainy images of black and white dolphin-like creatures swim through the ocean with powerful strokes of their muscular bodies, and Johnny eyes them with mild fascination. Then he distangles a leg from Ten’s and uses his toes to poke at Ten’s shin.

“No more soap opera?” he wonders and Ten hums affirmatively without tearing his gaze from the black and white animals, now narrated by a soothing voice. The heavy english accent carries out in the living room, filling the two in on random facts about the panda-whales.

“I like documentaries too” Ten says curtly without sparing Johnny a glance and Johnny sighs at how non-cooperative Ten is being.

“Yeah of course” he says agrees, hoping to lure conversation out of his companion. “It’s just… I don’t know, unusual”

“Fuck you, I can have more than one personality trait” Ten says smoothly, still not looking away from the screen. “Don’t be homophobic Johnny”

It’s one of those days, then. Johnny tends to underestimate how prickly and rude Ten can be; since he’s somewhat docile with Johnny, it’s easy to forget that rude and troublesome is, in fact, his default state. That it’s literally in his genetic codes. 

Johnny has lost track of all the times Ten’s old scientists’ have eyed him sympathetically when he comes with Ten in tow, asking if he’s really fine with dealing with Ten, the dog in question still within earshot. Johnny’s angry defense of Ten always raises eyebrows, but Johnny truly very rarely feels that Ten makes show of the reason he was deemed a defect. 

That isn’t to say that it never happens.

“I’m not being homophobic” he says patiently, knowing that this bad mood of Ten’s will probably pass soon, even if Ten is currently behaving like a complete brat. 

“Right” Ten says, “I forgot you shove it up the ass”

Johnny’s eyebrow twitches, both in annoyance with Ten’s tone and the familiar anxiety that always accompanies anything that alludes to their less than traditional dog-owner relationship. He breathes in deeply through his nose, knowing that losing his temper is the last thing he should do. When Ten gets like this, a reaction is what he yearns for the most, what he really seeks to draw out of Johnny. He wants the satisfaction of knowing he has power over Johnny, power to change his mood. It’s a little twisted, but it’s not like their power dynamic is all that healthy to begin with.

“Ten” he says measuredly, looking out the window and studying the mustard yellow clouds that hover just outside. “Could you please not? I’m not in the mood today”

The narrator of the nature documentary carries on talking about some other sea creature, but the background noise does little to ease the tension between the two. If anything, it serves to make the static between them crackle louder.

“Not in the mood for fucking?” Ten asks, purposely misunderstanding Johnny to grate on his nerves more. 

“Not in the mood to fight, Ten” Johnny says tiredly, rubbing his face. If there’s one thing Johnny hates, it’s inconvenience. Some might argue that Ten in his entirety is one big inconvenience, and well, it’s not like Johnny hasn’t toyed with the idea of getting rid of him. moments like these, when Ten just wants to poke and prod at Johnny’s patience until he snaps, Johnny feels his secret thoughts about ending things once again rear its ugly head. 

“Come on” Ten scoffs, clearly not yet through with his attempts at riling Johnny up. “Stop acting like you got a stick up your butt. I’m the one who-“

“Ten” Johnny cuts off through gritted teeth, trying to focus on the swirling smog outside the window instead of how badly he wants to snap at his hybrid. “Please don’t do this. Not right now”

Johnny hears a minuscule snort but no more words are spoken and he guesses Ten must’ve understood that today wasn’t one of the days he could push Johnny around and get away with it. Johnny knows that Ten is supposed to be hard to deal with, that foul mouth and desire to provoke was what made him unsuitable to sell, but for most part Ten behaves civilly around Johnny. It makes it all the more frustrating when he does act up, because Johnny is never sure how to deal with it. Except for the ground rule of course: never snap. Never indulge Ten. 

Never feed a begging dog. 

The narrator is cut off as the TV switches channel, interrupting the weather forecast. A smooth, female-imitating computer generated voice says that there’s a 30% chance for acid rain this weekend. In the window Johnny refuses to look away from, a technicolour animation of Seoul is reflected. In the colourful cartoon, little yellow clouds representing the mustard-greyish mist outside drift over the map, as the calm voice explains that this month’s high levels of pollution have resulted in unusually sour rainclouds, and that people are advised to stay inside in case of acidic rain. 

Ten shifts, the couch cushions reshaping under his weight. 

“I wonder how much pollution your company causes” Ten muses out loud. “Like, how much of those acidic clouds are because of Lee Incorporate?”

The weather forecast cuts to a commercial about soothing cream for acid burns, showing images of angry red blisters. Johnny stands up and leaves, muttering something about visiting the lab before slamming the door close so hard that every window in the flat shakes. Ten glances to the kitchen table where Johnny’s key card to the lab lies proudly among pencils and bread crumbs.

He looks out the window, wondering why the storm inside of him hasn’t been pacified. He got what he wanted, didn’t he?

~

Johnny is shivering, walking aimlessly up and down a building side street to pass time. Beneath his feet, under the plexiglass floor, the clouds obscure the ground from his view. He knows he’s well over five hundred metres up in the air, and that if it weren’t for the pollution he’d see real streets faw below him. Outside the protective glass wall that frames the passage, rain is pouring down. If Johnny didn’t know better he’d wish for it to softly, comfortingly stroke his face, soothing and cold. 

But he knows. Knows the amount of pollution that has made it turn sour and acidic, knows how it would make his skin sting and burn. 

A shrill ringing rises from his pocket, and Johnny sighs, reaching for his phone. The slim glass device glows blue, tiny letters spelling out his stepmother’s name. 

“Hello” he greets her, trying his hardest to muster a cheerful voice. He curses modern devices for being so incredibly good at picking up every little nuance in the speaker’s voice; the phones people had back in the early 2000’s had their limitations, but at least it was easy to mask one's emotions when speaking to someone. 

“Hello!” she chirps back, either not taking note of Johnny’s mood or purposely ignoring it. “I’m not interrupting something, am I?”

Johnny shakes his head before remembering he’s talking on the phone.

“No, no” he assures her, sticking his free hand down his pocket. “I’m free to talk”

“Great!” his stepmother’s voice booms from his phone’s speakers and Johnny carefully moves the device a couple of inches from his ear to protect his hearing. “I have some great news for you. If you’re okay with it, it could be incredibly beneficial for the company as well as out family”

Johnny feels an ominous sensation creep into his bones and he stops walking.    
“What is it?” he asks, suspicious.

“Your good friend Jaehyun’s parents have come with a very nice proposition” Johnny’s stepmother says as Johnny’s heart sinks in his chest. “Their son is single, as you know, and if we could unite our companies it could present some wondrous opportunities. It would eliminate our competition in Korea”

“What sort of union are we talking?” Johnny asks, feeling as if he’s under water. His mother laughs heartily. 

“Marriage, of course”

~

Yukhei doesn’t like visiting the lab.

He doesn’t like the white walls, the endless corridors, the grey staircase leading down to the bottom floor of the underground level. Some corridors have digital windows that imitate the outside weather (typically the type of weather that was common before the climate turned into a static, cloudy greyzone) but it doesn’t quite look realistic, and that tiny notion that something's off just serves to make Yukhei more agitated.  The stench of hundreds of distressed hybrids has been ingrained in the walls, the floors, and it makes Yukhei’s head spin with anxiety. The remainders of dread and fear seep into his nostrils and into his system, dyeing his heart in the same panic so many dogs before him have experienced upon passing through these hallways. 

When pushing open the thick steel door to the actual lab, after it’s been unlocked using a disposable keycard, the scent ten folds, hitting Yukhei with such force that he almost has to double over. He slaps a hand over his nose, retching at the vile, potent stench of terror.

Who knew that a superior sense of smell could be such a curse?

Few of the scientists present pay him any mind, presumably because of the bright blue visitor’s badge Yukhei’s wearing; the guide assigned to him will arrive shortly, and until then nobody cares about his obvious discomfort as long as he doesn’t actually throw up. 

Yukhei tries to focus on breathing in and out, and not on the sour smell that’s invading his senses, filling his cells with sheer panic. His stomach is tightening itself in knots and he swallows, trying to regain composure. It’s just smell, he reminds himself. Just the echoes of the past, the ghost of distant memories… 

The somewhat comforting smell of someone he recognises reaches Yukhei’s nose before he speaks.

“Are you okay?”

Yukhei manages to force out a weak grumble as he continues to bend forward, head cradled in his hands.

“D-do I look like I’m okay?” he wheezes through gritted teeth, glaring up at Renjun. It feels strange to be shorter than him for once, but Yukhei prefers a short moment of inferiority to spilling his guts in front of a dozen lab coat-dressed freaks.

Renjun has the audacity to roll his eyes at Yukhei’s misfortune.

“Okay enough to be a smartass” the little asshole says Yukhei lets out a low growl of annoyance, making a couple of heads turn in alarm.

“It’s the smell” Yukhei mutters, gulping down air and trying to get used to it. “The fucking… pheromones”

Renjun eyes him weirdly, clutching his notepad to his chest.

“From the scientists?” he asks and Yukhei thinks that for being a science prodigy and the youngest hybrid research graduee in history, Renjun sure can be dumb sometimes.

“No” he groans, fighting back his nausea and turbulent feelings by massaging his temples. It helps him, the physical contact grounding him, acting as a link between himself and the real world. A guiding rope through the mist of pheromones. “From the dogs, before. Their pheromones have fucking… I don’t know, stuck to the walls.”

Renjun’s eyes light up, as if he finally understands.

“It’s like inhaling panic” Yukhei grunts, finally feeling stable enough to straighten up. He’s now the one towering over Renjun again. “It’s stronger than last time”

Renjun shrugs. 

“Well you stunk the place up pretty badly” he says thoughtfully before clearing his throat. He extends his arm, pointing towards a hidden door that Yukhei hadn’t noticed before, a white one completely disguised apart from the small digital lock glowing at the side of it. “Shall we?”

Yukhei has never been on a health checkup before, so he simply nods and obediently follows Renjun. It can’t be bad, he thinks as Renjun enters a code on the luminescent buttons, the door swinging open with a soft click. He supposes they’re going to check whether he’s still in good shape to be Mark’s guard dog. Belatedly, as Renjun closes the door behind them, Yukhei realises that the hickeys Mark left on his neck last night are still there. If Renjun is to physically examine him, he’s most definitely going to see them glowing bright red on his smooth skin, and with how sharp Renjun is when he chooses to be, he’ll piece things together in no time.

Whoops.

“There” Renjun says, turning around with a somber expression on his face. “I’m sorry for calling you here, but I didn’t know any other room on this floor without surveillance cameras. I… don’t really leave the floor. Ever”

Yukhei nods and starts wrestling his shirt off.

“It’s cool” he grunts, voice muffled as he pulls the piece of clothing over his head. Renjun gives an odd squeak.

“Uh, you d-don’t have to do that” he stammers out and when Yukhei looks at him, confused, he’s beet red in the face. He’s looking anywhere and everywhere except for Yukhei’s now bare chest, where his nipples are pebbling in the cold air. 

“But I’m here for a health checkup” he says, frowning. He’s not following. 

Renjun wrings his hands, squirming nervously while throwing glances at the locked door. The room is quite small, with walls in the same white colour as outside. There’s a bed, hard and uninviting, and a couple of strange, scary instruments are placed on it. Yukhei’s first instinct is that he doesn’t want any of them close to any of his bodily openings.

“Not quite” Renjun says, voice low. His eyes are downcast, and he’s shifting his weight from foot to foot. The whole room is reeking from his nervous pheromones and it’s starting to agitate Yukhei too. “I… I actually wanted to talk about something else”

“What?” Yukhei asks, wanting to cut to the chase. He’s never been one to beat around the bush, preferring to get straight to the point. Renjun clears his throat and vaguely gestures towards Yukhei’s chest area. 

“If you could, uhm” he mumbles, turning redder by the second. “Just… put your clothes on again”

Yukhei rolls his eyes but complies, putting his shirt back on. Jesus, is everyone from the higher levels this prude? Mark also turns into a mess whenever Yukhei forgoes a shirt in the morning, something Yukhei caught onto quickly and made sure to utilise in his attempts at seducing him. It worked quite well, apart from the fact that Yukhei also fell somewhere along the way. 

But that’s on Mark.

“Happy now?” Yukhei asks sarcastically. That’s something he’s learnt since he became Mark’s guard dog, the ability to say things in a special way for them to mean something else, giving them a comical effect. Renjun doesn’t seem to pick up on his sarcasm right now, still buzzing with nerves. 

“Right” he says, as if Yukhei’s comment went right over his head. “I… I have something to talk to you about. Something to tell you, really. And it’s important that no matter what your response is, you mustn’t tell anyone about this conversation.”

This catches Yukhei’s attention for real. Renjun’s dead serious expression tells him that they’re about to do something they’re not supposed to, and a familiar shiver of thrill runs down his spine. He nods, licking his gums.

“Gotcha” he grumbles and Renjun studies him silently for a few seconds before seemingly reaching the conclusion that Yukhei is to be trusted. 

“Are you still planning to escape?” he asks, voice so low that Yukhei struggles to pick it up, even with his superior hearing. “Like you told me that one time in the lab”

Yukhei scratches the back of his neck, feeling shame colour his features. 

“I told you about that?” he questions in disbelief; he can’t believe he spilled such sensitive information. A small pinch of fear runs through his stomach and he hopes that Renjun is as supportive of hybrid’s rights as he’s been when they’ve spoken about it. The last thing he needs is for someone to blow his and Mark’s plans.

“Don’t worry” Renjun immediately ushers to assure him. “You were under the influence. And you never talked to anyone but me while you were here, so no one else knows”

Yukhei relaxes a little, still feeling embarrassed but less terrified. Renjun doesn’t seem keen on telling people yet, and Yukhei makes a quick and bold decision. A decision to trust.

“Yeah” he admits. “Yeah I still am. Me and Mark. We’re going to Sweden”

“Why Sweden?” Renjun asks curiously and Yukhei clears his throat.

“We’d be safe there” he explains. “Hybrids have special laws there, to protect them form discrimination. I could probably even get a job”

Renjun nods. 

“Good” he says and Yukhei’s jaw unhinges. He knew Renjun was different from the other scientists, partly due to his age, but he could never have imagined for him to actively support his escape this way. “Good, because I have information that might be of help”

He thrusts the papers he’s been carrying into Yukhei’s arms. 

“Read these” he instructs, not realising his mistake until Yukhei glares at him. “Oh, right”

He takes them back, grimacing at his own insensitivity. Whatever, not like it’s Renjun’s fault that Yukhei never had the chance to learn how to read. 

“These are hybrid Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul’s files” Renjun tells him. “More commonly known as ‘Ten’, the nickname given to him by his owner”

Yukhei nods, more than familiar with the stuck-up rick hybrid belonging to Mark’s half brother. 

“Now” Renjun says, waving the papers around as if there’s a risk Yukhei might have forgotten they exist, “I wrote these yesterday, from memory. Ten doesn’t have any files, he doesn't exist in our system. Any information on him is passed verbally between the scientists involved in his development, because it’s too big of a risk to print out such sensitive information.”

Now, Yukhei’s curiosity is definitely peaking. Maybe Ten had good reason to sit on such a high horse?

“As you may know” Renjun continues his briefing, “all of our lab-bred hybrids are castrated. Or rather, we manipulate their genes so they’re born without sexually reproductive organs. This is so that we can eliminate the risk of them breeding under uncontrolled conditions. We are required, by law, to castrate all of our dogs”

Renjun takes a deep breath. 

“But Ten is not” he says sharply, gauging Yukhei’s reaction. “Ten isn’t castrated. He’s a hidden ace, meant for other things. He’s just under Johnny’s care temporarily”

In Yukhei’s mind, the pieces fall into place.    
“Why are you telling me this?” he asks and Renjun smiles, for the first time during the day. 

“Because” he says, and Yukhei dreads the response, “I want you to take him with you”

Yukhei recalls Ten’s expensive ball gown, the snobbish expression on his face, and a protest is at the tip of his tongue.

“I already offered him” he confesses begrudgingly. “I asked him to come with us and he said no”

“Please” Renjun pleads, interrupting Yukhei before he can continue. “Tell him this. It’s going to change everything. I don’t know him personally, but from one dog to another it… you might…  _ please _ . You have to save him”   
Renjun bites his lip.

“He can be a pain” he admits quietly. “But you know what they’ll use him for. No one deserves that”

Yukhei closes his mouth again. Renjun is right; he has to try and change Ten’s mind. As much as he dislikes Ten, leaving him for such a fate would make him no better than the people they were captured by. It would make Yukhei and Mark no better than the likes of Johnny and his folks. The people Yukhei swore he would avenge. 

“Fine” Yukhei grunts. “But he better be prepared to leave those fancy gowns of his behind. I don’t think the swedish climate is fitting for them”

~

When Johnny comes back home after a couple of hours of roaming around the streets of the upper floors, Ten is nowhere to be found. The TV is switched off and the couch is vacant, a small indent in the cushions the only sign that Ten has ever sat there. Johnny frowns and kicks his shoes off; he knows that Ten is home because the lights are on and the app on his phone that’s connected to his surveillance system would have alerted him if someone had exited the apartment. 

Johnny thinks that maybe Ten has locked himself up in his room, when quiet footsteps behind him answer his question.

He turns, and is greeted with a delectably dressed Ten, the sight nearly making him lightheaded. Ten is wearing an oversized T-shirt made out of a sheer, white mesh-like material, with nothing but a pair of white underwear underneath. His nipple studs glint faintly under the thin layer of fabric, the ones Johnny had gifted him for his birthday. One of them glitters briefly in a blue hue and Johnny swallows a lump of guilt, tearing his gaze from Ten’s chest to look at his face.

“Hi” he breathes, feeling strangely nervous.

“Hi” Ten parrots, shifting his weight between his feet. His hair is fluffy, bangs hanging in his eyes, and Johnny guesses he had a shower while he was gone. Ten looks soft, cute, completely unlike the prickly, rude asshole he was being earlier. Almost  _ innocent _ , although Johnny of course knows better. Ten reaches inside the chest pocket of the T-shirt and pulls out Johnny’s keycard to the laboratory, solid proof that it had only been an excuse. “You forgot this”

“Ah” Johnny lets out with a parched throat, taking it from Ten and putting it in his back pocket. “Thank you”

Ten scratches his arm, looking uncomfortable in his own skin. It’s a foreign look on the usually so confident man. He looks bare and vulnerable, almost scared. His eyes flicker back and forth, like he’s searching for something.

“I’m sorry” he finally lets out, quietly, as if it still pains him a little to say it. Johnny seals his lips shut, waiting for Ten to continue. “Sorry for… being a pain”

Johnny sighs. ‘A pain’ is the nicest way of describing Ten’s relentless provocations earlier. 

“It’s fine” Johnny begrudgingly says, because an apology is more than he’d usually expect from Ten.

Ten looks down, squirming a little.

“It’s not” he admits. “But it’s all that I can give you for now, since I’m probably gonna do it again”

Usually, Ten makes up for his small physical state by having a personality that’s larger than life. Right now though, he looks the size he is, small and petite compared to Johnny’s large frame. He’s cowering like a wounded animal, unsure of himself in a way Johnny rarely sees reflected in Ten.

“Why?” Johnny finds himself asking. “Why do you do it, when you regret it afterwards?”

Ten bites his lip, crossing his arms. 

“Because” he starts, “I can’t help it. I try not to, I really do, but in my genes there’s this constant pull to create chaos. To put things out of balance, out of order. And when I look at you, I just want to  _ push it _ ”

Johnny stares at Ten, not knowing how to respond to what he’s confessing.

“Push the boundaries” Ten says. “Push myself, push you. I want to see how far I can stretch you until you snap. I want a reaction, I want to know I have the ability to make you feel”

Johnny is at a loss for words.    
“You want my attention” he says, feeling so helplessly lost. “Ten… you already have it”

Ten rubs the back of his neck, a light rosy hue colouring the high points of his cheekbones. 

“I know” he says, sounding embarrassed of himself. 

“There’s no one who has my attention like you” Johnny says, against better judgement; the last thing Ten needs to know is how much of a leash the younger has him on. 

“I know” Ten repeats. “Dear  _ God _ , I know I have you. But you’re still out of reach, you know?”

Johnny thinks that this is the perfect moment to tell Ten about his stepmother’s conversation with him. About the arrangement they’ve agreed on. His mouth turns sour just thinking about it, a violent stab of nausea stirring his insides.  _ Fuck _ he doesn’t want to have that conversation. Johnny knows it’s inevitable, sooner or later he’s going to have to tell Ten, but selfishly he decides that tonight is not that night. 

He swallows.

“I’m right here” he says, voice cracking as the bitter, untrue words drip off his tongue. “I’m never out of reach”

And as always, he can’t help but make the situation worse for himself.

“Not for you”

It’s almost like Ten falls forward, and when Johnny scoops him up, gathering his body in his arms, he practically melts into the embrace. He sticks so close, as if he’s trying to sink into Johnny’s body and make himself a home there. Slip into every nook and cranny of Johnny’s soul, dye Johnny’s every cell with his colours. 

Ten buries his nose in Johnny’s neck, inhaling deeply.

“Yes” he whispers, breath hot against Johnny’s skin. “Yes you are”

Johnny struggles to hear what Ten is actually saying, distracted by the supple flesh his hands land on when he embraces the man. Ten pulls back a little, placing a delicate peck on the corner of Johnny’s mouth. 

“You’re always, always just out of reach” he says and Johnny doesn’t know how to protest, so he does the only thing he knows how to: he leans forward and kisses Ten, hoping that he can convey everything he feels into the kiss. Hoping that Ten will translate it into everything he can’t confess. Everything he wants to say, all of the apologies he’ll need when he gathers the courage to tell Ten he’s marrying another.

If Ten takes note of the tears streaming down Johnny’s cheeks, he doesn’t say anything. 

~

Mark doesn’t like galas. 

He doesn’t like the warm, packed venues or the alcohol that pricks his throat as it slides down, making him even warmer and fuzzier. His suit is too tight and too hot, and Yukhei is too far from him. A couple of inches don’t usually feel so far, but with the knowledge that he can’t reach out and touch him without losing his reputation, those few inches feel like miles.

Mark squirms uncomfortably yet again, trying to loosen the tie around his neck a little so he can breathe more easily. He hasn’t even finished half his champagne glass yet, and he’s already sick of the sour liquid. Mark was never one of those people who grew to like the taste of alcohol, and still cringes everytime he drinks it. 

Yukhei is nursing a champagne glass too, only he hasn’t even had a sip of it and is holding it out of pure politeness. It’s part of his protectiveness of Mark, not wanting to drink alcohol in such a vulnerable environment. 

The orchestra present starts playing yet another boring piece of classical music that Mark has absolutely no interest in, and some couples steer their way onto the dance floor. The way they dance is awkward, like rich people who learnt the basics in order to blend in on occasions like these, but aren’t good enough to comfortably dance and have fun. Mark suspects that that’s exactly the case. 

Mark spots his brother among the couples dancing; Johnny’s twirling around lazily, a gorgeous woman dressed in a satin dress draped over his arm. They appear to be wrapped up in a light conversation and when Mark sees Johnny throw his head back and laugh, he thinks that Ten’s gaze right now could probably cut through steel.

As if the devil has heard his thoughts, a voice rises behind Mark.    
“Doesn’t she look slutty in that dress?”

Mark jumps, more out of surprise than because of Ten’s sharp tone. He flings around, finding the dog indeed standing behind him. His body is rigid, eyes glowing with rage as he glares at the dancing couple in question. 

“The neckline is way too low” he continues, voice edging on whiny. “It’s just cheap”

Mark doesn’t need Yukhei’s superb sense of smell to feel the stench of alcohol waft over him when Ten speaks, and he tries not to grimace. 

“Speaking ill of women doesn’t make  _ you _ look any less cheap” he says measuredly, because he truly finds this kind of behaviour very childish. Ten is more than old enough to bury his irrational jealousy instead of speaking lowly of this innocent woman. 

Ten directs his murderous gaze to Mark instead, only to sigh a couple of seconds later. As if his reaction is suffering from a minor, alcohol-related delay. 

“You’re right” he hiccups. “I still hate her though”

Yukhei chortles, quickly masking it as a cough before Ten can catch on. 

“Right” Mark says, having a hard time hiding his smile himself. He catches Yukhei’s eye and the younger raises an eyebrow. Mark knows exactly what his silent inquiry is about; after Yukhei and Renjun had that conversation a couple of weeks ago, they’d asked Ten once again if he wanted to come with them. Even after they’d relayed all the information, Ten had turned them down, but he’d been far more hesitant than last time. 

Somehow, Mark has a gut feeling it has less to do with the breeding situation, and more something to do with Johnny. How, he has no idea, but everything in Ten’s life seems to revolve around Johnny so he supposes that’s the case this time around too. 

If Mark is interpreting Yukhei correctly, it’s time for one last little check. 

He clears his throat. 

“You haven’t given our proposition any more thought?” he asks, trying to make it sound nonchalant and not at all like a planned escape. Like he’s just remembering something unimportant, and not like he's inquiring whether this is Ten’s last gala ever or not.

Ten sighs, running a bedazzled hand through his hair; the rings on his fingers look heavy, glittering with huge diamonds, and his false nails are unnaturally long, painted with a silvery nailpolish. 

“I’m afraid my answer is still negative” he says quietly, eyes still following Johnny and his dance partner where they sway in the distance. “I’m thankful you’ve disclosed the information but… I don’t know if I can leave Johnny just like that. Even if my happiness is on the line”

Yukhei’s eyes are wide as he stares at Ten and Mark feels a miniscule stab of sadness. It isn’t rocket science to figure out that Yukhei would never value him above his safety and life in the way Ten does with Johnny. Which is fine, really, because Mark knows it would be absolutely outrageous to demand that of him. 

He just can’t help that very slight jealousy when Ten makes it so overly clear that to him, Johnny comes before everything. It makes Mark long for that too. 

“But why?” Yukhei asks, beyond curious. Ten looks at him with a blank expression, as if he too can’t understand the other. It strikes Mark as strangely hilarious, how they’re so incredibly different down to the very last inches of their beings. “Why stay when… when you know what’s going to happen to you”

Ten sighs, eyes downcast. His dark lashes fan out over the high tops of his cheekbones, and Mark notes how they’re longer and darker than normally, with tiny rhinestones placed on them. They glitter beautifully and Mark blushes with guilt, tearing his eyes away from Ten.

“I might not stay forever” Ten explains. “It’s not like I’m more keen on my fate than you are”

He trails off, eyes glued to the checkered marble tiles. He allows his naked toes to follow the line between a white and a dark green square, the black nail polish on his toenails sparkling in the dim lighting.

“But I can’t leave right now, I don’t think” he continues, and while Yukhei can probably still hear him perfectly fine Mark now has to strain himself to pick up Ten’s words. “I’m still too… let’s say attached, to Johnny to just leave him behind. I might change my mind in the future, but right now this… this is where my heart lies”

Ten trails off and doesn’t remove his gaze from the seemingly fascinating floor, and Mark is filled with newfound respect for the man. It’s crazy, foolish, to value something as fragile and artificial as his relationship with Johnny above his health and future, but somehow Mark can respect it. Maybe it’s a misplaced glorification of a case of stockholms syndrome, but Mark finds himself wishing Yukhei would also care that deeply for him. 

One day, he will, Mark thinks to himself. One day, we’ll reach that point. I’ll make sure of it. 

“I understand” Mark says softly. “It’s no one’s decision to make but yours”   
Ten gives Mark a grateful smile, his body relaxing a little from its earlier tense stance.

“So” he says, voice a little more cheerful. “When are you planning to leave?”

Mark smiles, happy that the conversation has taken a more pleasant turn. He hears the music come to an end, and in the corner of his eye he can see the couples on the dance floor come to stop. 

“We aren’t sure yet” he explains, seeing Johnny bow politely to the lady he’s been dancing with. “Yukhei wants to leave as soon as possible, but I want to stay for Johnny’s wedding. We’re trying to reach an agreement”

Mark flinches as the champagne glass slips out of Ten’s now lax hand, meeting the floor with a crash. Glass splinters spring everywhere, and a couple of heads turn but Ten pays them no mind. His eyes are wide open, champagne dripping from his fancy gown without him noticing it. His bottom lip is trembling ever so slightly and as Mark sees the world crumbling in Ten’s eyes he’s struck by a horrible realisation. 

Mark sucks in a breath and prays he’s wrong, that he’s somehow misreading the signals. That something else has Ten shaken to the core. 

Ten doesn’t even appear to have noticed he’s dropped a glass on the floor, face flickering through a billion emotions every heartbeat. It’s like he can’t decide if he’s confused, angry, sad, and everything flashed by so quickly that he remains an apathetic blur. When he opens his mouth, his voice is so weak and thin, so fragile and broken that Mark wants to die, die for this man who placed Johnny above everything else. 

“Wedding?”

~

Johnny is hit by a sense of deja vu as he and Ten enter his apartment. Ten’s leash rests securely in his hand, a plain leather one tonight, and the keys jingle quietly in the empty flat. Johnny can feel a familiar static in the air, and he thinks that it’s probably just a matter of time before Ten snaps and explodes at him. Johnny hopes it’s sexual, the energy and electricity running through them, but judging by the ominous apathetic look Ten has had on his face the whole evening it’s more destructive in its nature. 

Johnny takes off his coat, stretching his neck until it gives a faint crack. His feet ache from dancing the entire evening and he’s tired. Ten is still standing just inside the door, and Johnny can feel the tension build between them, the rope stretching tauter and tauter. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”   
Ten’s voice is oddly thin, as if he’s forcing himself to stay calm and coming off as robotic instead. Johnny finds it unnerving and he frowns to himself. 

“What do you mean?” he asks easily, thinking that just like any of Ten’s sudden bad moods it’ll pass by if he’s just careful. He was in a good mood earlier today, the pendulum will probably swing back soon enough. “Tell you what?”

“That you’re getting married”   
Johnny stills. 

That.

He understands that this is not one of Ten’s hormonal bursts of anger, not a flit of annoyance. This goes far deeper and way beyond that. Johnny curses himself for not gathering the courage to tell Ten earlier. It’s been months for god’s sake, they’ve started planning the details already. And Johnny has been too cowardly to look Ten in the eyes and break the news. 

Johnny’s heart breaks thinking about how someone else had to tell him. 

“Oh” is the intelligent answer he musters and Ten scoffs impossibly darkly behind him.    
“Yeah” he chuckles humorlessly. “ _ ‘Oh’ _ at the very least”

Johnny hears him take a deep breath and steels himself. He knows it’s coming, the impact. The comet is racing towards him, fast and with an incomprehensible destructive power, ready to tear them both to shreds. Johnny turns around, seeing Ten a couple of metres away. His fists are clenched at his sides, head turned down and his entire frame shaking. Johnny idly wonders whether it’s with rage or sadness. 

“How dare you?” Ten whispers hoarsely, voice cracking. “How fucking  _ dare you _ do this to me Johnny?”

Johnny feels that dangerous anger stir inside of him, the anger that he doesn't have any right feeling because he’s the one in wrong. It’s just human instinct, to grow defensive and aggressive when backed into a corner. He tries to breathe, concentrate on the faintly illuminated silhouette of Ten’s body, rather than the anger pulsating in time with his blood. 

“Who told you?” he asks and Ten stares at him as if he’s grown a second head.

“How on earth” he says incredulously, “is that of any importance whatsoever?”

Johnny grumbles unintelligibly. 

“I just wanted to know-”

“And I” Ten cuts him off with a shrill voice, “would love to know why the fuck you didn’t think to tell me”

Ten sputters for a few seconds, as if his thoughts are going so haywire that he has to collect himself before carrying on. 

“You fucking… you’re marrying someone else” he all but seethes. “And you didn’t think that maybe, that’s something I’d want to know?”

“You know what?” Johnny yells back angrily, feeling something sour and slippery crawl in his belly. Whatever it is, it’s on its way up and it’s not anything nice. “I don’t have to tell you anything, I’m not fucking obligated to. Don’t speak to me like that”

Johnny is aware that he’s spewing complete and utter bullshit, and that even he can’t fool himself into thinking that he and Ten aren’t so deep in that they have to tell each other things like that. Ten’s eyes are shooting bolts of lightning and he's clearly not pleased with the way Johnny is talking to him.

“Stop acting like you own me” he snarls and Johnny feels it moving inside of him, the slimy thing. The unforgivable.

“I do, Ten” he says before he can stop the words. “I fucking own you”

A deathly silence follows Johnny’s words. 

He slaps his hand over his mouth, as if that could magically put the words back into his mouth. Make them unsaid. His eyes are wide, heart beating as he goes over what he just said in his head. 

Ten stares back at Johnny in as much disbelief as the older. 

“I’m… you… ” he stammers, sounding shaken and like he can’t quite believe it. Behind Johnny’s palm, his lips are trembling. He can’t believe it either, that he let the creature out of the bag. That he said such things. 

“Fuck” he whispers, words muffled. “ _ Fuck _ I… I didn’t mean it, Ten you know I didn’t”

Ten looks up at him, miserable. 

“Do I?” he asks quietly. “Do I really, Johnny?”

Johnny thinks that Ten wants him to respond, wants him to say something. Something that can change everything. It’s in the way Ten’s looking at him so expectantly, vibrating with the need to hear something comforting, consoling.

Johnny stares helplessly at the younger, lips sealed shut; everything has already been said. 

“Who are they?” Ten finally asks, accepting that Johnny can’t fix things now. That there might never be any fixing the damage done. 

Johnny is confused for a few seconds before it dawns on him.

“A childhood friend” he says, truthful only when it’s too late. “My parents thought he’d be a good match, because of his parents’ company and because we get along”

Ten remains cold, looking like he’s fighting a billion emotions in order to keep his mask. 

“So you’re going to marry him?” he inquires, distaste evident in his voice. “Because of business? Because you get along?”

Johnny swallows, understanding where Ten’s anger is coming from. Johnny isn’t even cheating on him, he’s throwing them away because of an arranged marriage. Johnny can’t even imagine something farther below Ten’s dignity. 

“What happened to never being out of reach?” Ten asks, recalling Johnny’s words from a couple of months ago and slapping them in his face. They sting like acid, getting thrown back like this, and Johnny idly wonders if this is why Ten had trouble accepting them back then; if he somehow had a feeling it would come to this. That they would come to this. 

Johnny cringes. 

“Ten” he says, helplessly. “I… I’m so sorry. For pretending like this was okay, like we were okay. For allowing the illusion that it could ever work out between us.”

Johnny sees a crease form between Ten’s brows and senses that he’s about to interrupt, so he raises a hand to halt him and carries on.

“But this is real life” he says gravely, hoping that his eyes can translate everything his words can’t hold. Everything he can’t express, can’t possibly translate into human language. “And we don’t get what we want. I’ve never even entertained the idea that I’d get to marry… the person I’d want to marry. I’m sorry I made you think differently.”

Johnny can’t quite read Ten. He’s as stiff as a board, face carefully void of any and all emotion, and yet he’s buzzing with a peculiar energy in the dim light of Johnny’s flat. Maybe Ten is even the one emitting the light, fuck if Johnny knows at this point. 

“And if you could marry the one you want?” Ten pipes up, taking Johnny by surprise. “What would things be like then?”

“Please” Johnny begs, not above such things when it comes to Ten. “Don’t do this to me”

Ten takes a step closer, licking his lips. His collar glitters, but Johnny, like so many times before, feels like the one who’s chained down and tied up. Ten moves like a predator ready to pounce. Less like a dog and more like a wolf. 

“What would  _ we _ be like?” he asks slowly, and Johnny suppresses a shudder. 

“Stop” he says, aiming for firm but ending up sounding weaker and shakier than ever before.

Ten is merciless, drawing closer and closer. His presence is huge, surrounding Johnny on every side with lifeless eyes and the voice of someone who’s given up long ago. 

“Tell me, Johnny”

“What difference does it make?” Johnny asks exasperatedly. “Saying things out loud only makes you want them more. Makes you mourn their loss more”

“I want you to tell me” Ten says, as if he hasn’t heard Johnny’s protests. As if he isn’t part of the same conversation. His eyes are glazed over and Johnny thinks that in that moment he almost looks like an android or robot; a shell of flesh and blood, without feelings or thoughts. 

“But why?” Johnny asks, not following. Why is Ten so insistent on having Johnny say it?

“Because I need to hear it” Ten says calmly. “I need you to say that you love me”

Johnny’s entire world swings from hearing the word alone, and he feels nauseous with shock. It’s like someone has punched the air from his lungs and he finds that he can’t breathe. 

“Wh-what?” he weakly stutters. Ten said it. Said the word Johny hasn’t even dared to think. The one thing that can never ever be taken back. 

“Say it” Ten repeats calmly, as if he isn’t asking Johnny for the absolutely impossible. The unspeakable.

“I can’t” Johnny breathes, and it’s true. How could he possibly say that? It would materialise everything he fears, everything he pushes away, everything he’s been fighting for years. Acknowledging what you can’t have only serves to make you yearn for it more deeply. Saying it aloud won’t quench Johnny’s desire, it’ll only make it burn hotter.

Ten watches him, something unreadable lying like a thin veil over his eyes. It hits Johnny, not for the first time, how hard Ten can be to understand. Ten is an enigma on the best of days, and sometimes he can be truly unfathomable. 

“Johnny” he says, and sends the world tumbling down: “I’m leaving”

It’s noiseless with how loud it’s booming when everything crumbles, and Johnny can only blink as his life crashes to a halt. His blood is thrumming like bass drums in his ears, threatening to bust his eardrums with every pump from his heart. 

“What” he wheezes for what feels like the billionth time this evening, ”are you talking about?”

Johnny is shaking, trying to suck oxygen into his lungs as he fights the urge to grab Ten by the shoulder, shake him violently and ask him to stop lying. Ten looks miserable, but still collected, like he’s doing something he has to with as much dignity as he can collect. 

Johnny is falling apart. 

“I’m leaving” he repeats. “There’s an escape plan, between me and… a couple of hybrids. We’re leaving this place. Lee Incorporate, Korea, all of it”

Ten takes a deep breath and fixates Johnny with his gaze.

“We’re leaving it all behind” he says and Johnny wonders how he keeps his voice so steady when he is splitting at the seams. 

“You can’t” Johnny says, trying to talk around the heavy lump in his throat. “You… you’re traceable”

He prays that Ten can’t detect the hope in his voice, but he isn’t sure any god can hear him, least of all listen to him. 

“No” Ten says. “I’m not. I don’t exist in any registers, since I’m an illegal hybrid”

It’s like the punches keep coming. 

“Illegal?” Johnny asks faintly and Ten’s face relaxes into an expression of surprise. 

“Oh” he says, sounding genuinely dumbfounded. “You… I thought you knew”

Johnny feels like a fish on dry land, unable to properly speak or breathe. All he can do is writhe in panic as everything he knows is being ripped from him.

“No” he says truthfully, and he has no idea what Ten even means by illegal. He doesn’t even want to know.

“I assumed you knew”

Ten says it so neutrally, as if he hasn’t just dropped a huge bomb on Johnny. As if he hasn’t shaken his entire life up with a few short sentences. Johnny can never tell if Ten’s indifference is faux or if he truly can’t see the effect he has on Johnny. He supposes it doesn’t really make a difference, and he doesn’t even know if he wants Ten to know the power he holds over Johnny. 

Johnny swallows.

“Why are you leaving me Ten?” he whispers. “Did I not treat you well? Is that it?”   
Ten sighs, his features further softening into a look of sympathy. Sympathy and pity.

“You know that’s not it” he says. “It’s… I just can’t stand it anymore. Being your possession”

Ten grabs his robe where it’s slid down his shoulder, hiking it up to protect his modesty. He’s flushed and breathing quickly, as if confronting Johnny has been a whole marathon.

“I love you Johnny” Ten says, Johnny’s eyes widening until they’re nearly bulging out of his skull. “And I can’t stay as your… your thing. On a leash, watching you sell hybrids like me like products, watching you marry someone else. I can’t”

Johnny can’t come up with anything to counter Ten with, because how does one argue against something like that? Nothing Ten is saying is outrageous or strange at all, if anything it makes perfect sense. Especially with how naturally turbulent Ten is. Looking back at it, Johnny wonders if this all wasn’t just a matter of time. 

“Where will you go?” he finds himself asking. 

“Sweden” Ten explains, conjuring images of tiny skyscrapers and IKEA catalogues in Johnny’s mind. “They have special laws to protect hybrids from discrimination. I could live a normal life there”

Ten takes a step forward, and before Johnny knows what he’s doing he has grabbed his hand. Ten’s hand is familiar when Johnny touches it, but the recent news about Ten’s impending departure makes it send effortless shivers down Johnny’s spine. 

“Come with me” Ten says, his voice so impossibly soft and alluring. “Fucking leave this place and come with me”

Johnny takes a shuddering breath, leaning forwards until his head is knocking into Ten’s. Their foreheads rest against each other’s and Johnny takes Ten’s other hand, intertwining their fingers. Ten’s breath hits him in the face and he swallows a lump, blinking tears back. It’s too much, it’s all too much, and Johnny doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“I can’t” he says, his words strangled and pained. They seem to cut his windpipe like glass as he breathes them out, harsh and unforgiving. “Ten you know I… you know I can’t”

Ten lets out a quiet chuckle, his body shaking with it.

“I know” he says, before leaning back to look at Johnny. Johnny’s eyes are half closed and he just knows that if he could see himself he’d see his gaze filled with love for Ten. “You’ve never committed to anything in your life except work.”   
Johnny wants to interrupt, wants to protest, but Ten shakes his head no when he sees Johnny open his mouth. It’s probably for the better, since Johnny doesn’t know what he would have said; everything Ten says is true. 

“But if it ever meant anything” Ten says, squeezing Johnny’s hands as he carries on speaking in that low murmur. “The things we did, the things we felt… if it meant something to you then please… I’m begging you”

Johnny frowns, his vision going blurry with the tears that have been steadily building up in his eyes. His eyes sting and Ten’s face has become hazy from the sheen of tears obscuring his world. 

“Please what?” he asks, wanting so desperately to understand. Understand Ten, understand them.

Ten looks him straight in the eye, voice and figure unwavering.

“Make a choice” he says, making Johnny’s stomach drop. “For once in your life, make a choice. Make a difference. Do something about what’s fucking important to you”

Johnny stares at Ten. In his eyes, he sees their time together. He sees their past, their memories. The beautiful parts, as well as the ugly, jagged parts he’d rather forget. He sees the nights they became one, and the days they fought until they couldn’t stand the sight of each other’s faces.

He thinks of the company, of the life he’s been groomed into since he was old enough to walk. He thinks of the dream that’s been passed down from his father to him, the very thing he’s spent his every waking moment caring about.

Until Ten came into his life, and suddenly there was one more thing. Another part to the equation, that shook everything up. That changed everything, for good.

Johnny stares down at the conjoined hands. It’s mesmerizing, the way they seem to be made for each other. They fit together so perfectly, and Johnny knows it’s because he’s spent years holding them, perfecting his grip on them. 

With his breath caught in his throat Johnny squeezes them, hard, making his choice.

He opens his mouth, and he seals his fate.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was chapter twooooooooooo I hope you enjoyed it :3
> 
> The epilogue is coming up, it just needs some editing
> 
> If you liked it, leave kudos and comments <3 comments are the maple syrup to the pancakes of life


	3. Du und ich (entkommen der welt)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Johnny's decision is revealed, Ten learns the hard truth about Swedish winters, and lessons go unlearned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of hate this lol I'm sorry this sucks but yeah hope you enjoy it
> 
> Chapter title from Tokio Hotel's 'Komm'
> 
> "Komm mit
> 
> Komm  
> Du und ich entkommen der welt"
> 
> Translation:
> 
> "Come with me
> 
> Come  
> You and I escape the world"

Ten tries his best to be quiet as he pads across the kitchen tiles. He’s barefoot, as he’s preferred to stay for as long as he can remember, but unfortunately without the comfort he’s lived in for a large part of his life. Unlike the tiles in Johnny’s apartment, his current floor isn’t heated but cold and awful under his feet, making his toes curl and his nose wrinkle in discomfort.

The coffee maker is also a far cry from the luxury he enjoyed in Johnny’s old apartment. It’s bigger, bulkier, an ugly metal monster that glares at Ten every morning. It whirrs and it sputters as it spits out his coffee, a thoroughly unpleasant sound to be welcomed by at such early hours. Johnny’s old machine was an expensive one that didn't purr louder than a kitten as it prepared the morning dose of caffeine.

Ten sighs wistfully, pressing the button for a double espresso while placing a somewhat clean mug under the stream of hot liquid. As he waits for it to finish, he ties the sash of his robe tighter around his midriff; it’s a fleece one, a ridiculous downgrade from his earlier stass. It can’t be helped though, Sweden is far colder than Korea and his lacy, mesh nightwear simply doesn’t cut it anymore. Apart from a few weeks during the summer, they’re tucked into the very back of his cramped wardrobe where they collect dust for the majority of the year.

Ten rubs his eyes, grabbing his mug of steaming espresso once the coffee machine has stopped coughing out brown sludge. It’s winter, and the sun has yet to rise. It’s currently 8 am and Ten doubts the sun will rise earlier than 12. 

Ten has since long found out, the harsh way, that the things he’s heard about dark nordic winters are true to every word. The sun rises late, a pale sliver barely showing a glimpse of itself over the treetops before diving back into a grey sunset by early afternoon. That is, if it isn’t cloudy. 

Lately, it’s been really cloudy. The last time Ten saw the sun was five weeks ago, and it’s starting to take a toll on him. He sighs, rubbing his face as he grabs his mug. His fingers curl around the porcelain, warming them up through the hot liquid inside. He stares out the window, watching the rickety, illegally built bridges that leap between skyscrapers. 

He sighs.

In Johnny’s old apartment, he’d lived in a luxurious flat on the high levels. These days, he resides with a couple of people in a much smaller apartment, on one of the very bottom levels. The cohousing situation drives him up the walls at times, with some of the obnoxious residents he has to share living space with, and to his chagrin Ten also has found that the lower levels are far more polluted than he’d expected. In Johnny’s old apartment he’d rarely left the flat, and when he did he almost never went outside. 

These days he actually has to work, which means he has to venture outside decked in a gasmask, complete with goggles, to protect himself from the thick smog. 

Ten takes a careful sip of coffee and contemplates whether having a cigarette is worth it or not. The apartment lacks fire detectors, since Yuta long since has screwed them apart and used them to make incredibly questionable little machines, but Ten’s lungs have suffered incredibly from living in such concentrated pollution. He’s started wondering if smoking was ever worth it. 

Ten closes his eyes as he hears the sound of someone descending down the stairs. He curses himself for thinking it, but maybe, just maybe it’s… 

“Mornin’”

Ten resists heaving a bitter sigh of disappointment at the sound of not-Johnny’s voice. He opens his mouth and is greeted by the sight of a freshly awoken Yuta, with mussed hair, a rumpled tank top and a cigarette dangling from his lips. 

“Morning” Ten says back with a nod, because it’s not Yuta’s fault that he isn’t the person Ten longs to see in the morning. Yuta opens the refrigerator, scratching his crotch through the thin fabric of his washed out pajama pants without any shame. He eyes the things in the refrigerator and grunts at them, or rather lack of them. 

“Aye puppy” he says, words muffled by the cigarette. “D’ya know where the sausage I cooked last night is?”

Ten scowls. 

“Don’t call me that” he snaps, as always in a sour and irritable mood in the morning. “And no, I have no idea. I suppose Yukhei ate it”

Yuta gives a barking laugh and slams the refrigerator close.

“S’pose so” he agrees, reaching down his pocket in search of a lighter. Various metal objects jangle faintly before he pulls the hand up again, lighting a purple flame and putting it to the end of the chewed tobacco stick. 

Ten takes another mouthful of coffee (he cannot deny it’s surprisingly good), watching as Yuta starts pulling drawers and cupboards open in search of something to eat. In a different universe, they’d probably be good friends; Yuta is funny, and has a carefree attitude that Ten admires. He lived his whole life on the very lowest levels in different countries, moving whenever he got tired until he decided to settle down in Sweden of all places. 

He makes his living building strange machines and robots from debris, selling them to people who for some reason are willing to pay for the stuff he builds using scraps from dumps. Yuta’s hobbies can be chalked down to smoking and starting various punk bands that last for about a month before they fall apart. 

Sometimes, it’s because he’s fucked the guitarist, sometimes because the drummer turns out to be an asshole. Sometimes it’s simply because they lose inspiration. 

Yuta is cool, Ten can admit to himself. Unfortunately, with living together comes a lot of issues that make them unavoidably collide and crash at times. They chafe against each other in ways that make it hard for Ten to build a proper friendship with Yuta. 

Yuta himself has long since stopped trying to properly befriend the residents that live with him; they come and go, renting a room for a couple a months, or a year at most, and then they exit as if they were never there. 

The smell of nicotine drifts over to where Ten is standing and he shudders at it. 

Fuck it, he decides. 

“Yuta” he calls out, earning a noncommittal hum in response. “Pass me the lighter”

Ten walks over to the kitchen counter that’s cluttered with things: half-finished motors, bottles of metal paint, various strange and pointy tools. A dirty plate is half-hidden under what looks like the skeleton of a drone-in-progress, and a couple of cigarettes are scattered over the counter, between dirty towels, paint brushes and yet-to-be-unpacked bags of debris. 

Ten grabs a cigarette, carefully checking that it’s not one that’s been accidentally dipped in engine oil before turning to Yuta who’s already holding out his trusty lighter. 

“Thanks” Ten mutters, lighting up his cigarette and taking a deep drag, making sure to pull down as much smoke as he possibly can. He closes his eyes, fully enjoying the first rush of nicotine. 

“No problem” Yuta says before cheekily continuing. “You sounded like you had fun last night”

Ten cracks an eye open, raising a questioning eyebrow at Yuta. He’s using that mischievous tone that, when coming from Yuta, never means anything good. 

“Yes I did, thank you very much” Ten says, not wanting to encourage Yuta’s taunting. Unfortunately luck, or rather Yuta, is not on his side this morning for his smile broadens wolfishly. 

“ _ Oh, harder! _ ” he mimics in a high-pitched voice, the sheer ridiculousness making Ten crack a smile despite himself.

“Asshole” he chuckles, punching Yuta lightly in the shoulder.

“ _ Oh, right there _ ” Yuta continues teasingly. “ _ More Johnny, please!” _

Ten feels his laughter catch in his throat. 

He freezes, his stomach tightening up in a knot of anxiety. It feels like he’d been slapped, hard and unforgivingly right across the cheek. Ten doesn’t remember the name of the man he’d dragged home, but he knows that it sure as hell wasn’t ‘Johnny’.

Yuta seems to notice the change of atmosphere, the way Ten sobers up out of nowhere, and he thankfully closes his mouth. He might be a punk guitarist and singer who sleeps until noon and makes his living off of constructing illegal machines, but he has a surprisingly good sense of when it’s time to shut the hell up. 

Ten is staring out into thin air, mentally hitting himself over the head. He doesn’t care about the boy, it was just some random swede he’d picked up in a club, but he’s furious with himself. It’s so pathetic, so entirely lacking any sort of self-respect. 

So unlike everything he’d stood up for when he left Korea.

“What’s up”

Ten fights the urge to breathe a sigh of relief as the uncomfortable moment is broken; while Yuta is great at feeling the mood he’s terrible at comforting, and Ten is eternally grateful that Sicheng chose this exact moment to disturb the peace. Completely unaware of the tense mood he stumbles into the kitchen, carefully avoiding the junk that’s littering the floor, a mess of old guitar strings, notebooks and gadgets in the process of being picked apart. 

Yuta’s attention is stolen by Sicheng’s presence and he grins at the man. 

“Mornin’” he says, lifting his cigarette in a mock toast. Sicheng rolls his eyes and opens the refrigerator, looking through the shelves. A frown etches itself into his features as he takes in their raided food stash. “Ain’t nothin’ there” Yuta informs him. “Already checked”

The crease between Sicheng’s eyebrows deepens, his nose scrunching up. Ten sees his eyes darkening and senses a shift in the air.

“Some fucking cohousing this is” he says, voice monotone in that way only Sicheng can master. He shuts the refrigerator with a humourless chuckle. “Nothing edible in sight. Did you sell the food to afford your pills Nakamoto?”

Ten winces, uncomfortable with the hostile tone the conversation has taken. 

“Leave if it ain’t suitin’ your tastes” Yuta says levelly, not swerving for Sicheng’s verbal onslaughts. His voice is calm but his eyes are dancing with fire and provocation as always, daring Sicheng to make truth of his words. “Or better yet, go buy some fuckin’ groceries”

Sicheng narrows his eyes at Yuta, obviously in a foul mood. Sicheng isn’t a resident in the collective, but one in the row of Yuta’s rock band boyfriends slash fuck buddies. He might as well have been a resident though, as he spends most of his nights sleeping in Yuta’s bed. That is, when they don't use it for other things.

“Maybe I will” he says hotly, not clarifying which of the suggestions he’s talking about. It’s probably for effect, so that when he storms out the door Yuta will be left wondering if it’s for the grocery store or forever. Sicheng probably doesn’t know himself, most likely in the middle of deciding. 

Yuta just scoffs as Sicheng slams the door close hard enough to make the windows rattle. 

“Fuckin’ drama queen” he mutters, tapping the cigarette and making ashes fall onto the discoloured wooden tiles. Ten watches him with furrowed brows.

“Maybe you should go after him” Ten says conversationally, as if they’re discussing the weather and not Yuta’s potentially crumbling relationship. “Sicheng can be moody”

Yuta shakes his head, placing nicotine-stained fingers by his mouth to suck in some more smoke.

“Nah” he says, smoke spilling from his lips as he speaks. “Sicheng doesn’t feel at all”

Ten supposes Yuta is right.

Sicheng is unpredictable on the best of days, his mood swinging so quickly and violently it gives the people around him a whiplash. At the same time, he’s also strangely emotionless in a way that gives Ten the chills. There are days when Ten looks him in the eyes and can swear that he’s just an empty vessel, with no real feelings or attachments beneath the pretty surface. 

Ten doesn’t know if he’s dating Yuta or if they’re just sleeping together, their relationship being as stable and conventional as can be expected of a rock singer and a punk guitarist. 

“He’ll come ‘round” Yuta says, sounding sure of himself. “He always does”

Ten hums, taking another drag. He doesn’t know, but it’s not the first day doors have been slammed between Yuta and Sicheng, venomous words exchanged in rapid fire. And still, the day has yet to come when Sicheng doesn’t return in the evening, attacking Yuta in a flurry of passionate kisses. 

“Hopefully” Yuta adds, haphazardly squashing his cigarette against the countertop and flicking the fag towards a dustbin, “bringin’ breakfast”

The glowing stump misses its mark and lands on the floor, leaving a faint burnmark in its wake. There are lots of those kinds of burn marks in the apartment, courtesy of Yuta’s laziness and dustbins that are seemingly always overflowing with trash that no one bothers taking out. 

“This place is a pigsty” Ten says gloomily, eyeing the mess on the floor, on the counter, in the open cupboards. The cupboard doors are stained with splashes of food, reminders of long faded times when people in the apartment actually cooked. It happens that Yuta talks wistfully of those days, when someone named Taeil lived with them. It was apparently the only time that the cohousing was somewhat bearable. 

“Amen” Yuta says solemnly, stretching his arms above his head. He lets out a satisfied groan, dropping them again to scratch his belly just above the V-line. The movement causes his shirt to rise up, showing a sliver of radiation-damaged skin and a happy trail leading down to the sweatpants slung low on his hips. Ten hastily looks away. “Fuckin’ hell, ’m so hungry I might just pop a pill instead of waitin’”

Ten makes a grimace, putting out his own cigarette before carefully putting it in the trash can. 

“You know nutrition pills can only substitute food for so long” he chastises Yuta. “You’re going to murder your insides if you keep abusing them”

Yuta laughs heartily, as if they’re not discussing his slowly failing inner organs. 

“You worry too much” he muses with a smile. “But fine, I’ll wait ‘n see if Sicheng brings somethin’”

Ten nods, feeling how the nicotine-soothed hunger bites him anew at the mention of food.  _ Hunger _ is a word that has gained a new meaning ever since Ten moved out of Johnny’s flat; the annoying scratch after a snack has turned into something deeper, rawer and more vicious.

Hunger is no longer the mere craving for something sweet, it’s a harsh gnawing at the pit of his stomach when he hasn’t eaten a proper meal in a full day. Sustaining himself on nutrition pills and sandwiches has done a bigger number on Ten than he’d like to admit, his ribs poking out more than they did a couple of months ago, his digestive system revolting from time to time. 

“D’ya print out the flyers?”

Ten is ripped from his gloomy reminiscing by Yuta’s question and he shakes his head. 

“No” he says, hurrying to continue when he sees Yuta’s smile drop, “but I’ve had a lot on my plate lately. My boss is downsizing and I gotta stay on my toes unless I wanna lose my job”

Yuta nods in understanding, but Ten doesn’t miss the disappointed glint in his eyes. Ten knows Yuta wants him to engage more, and Ten wants that too; Mark and Yukhei are as engaged in Yuta’s activism as one can possibly be. Since his tiny organization of sorts is nonprofitable, he needs all the help he can get. Ten should help. Partly because he owes Yuta, the man having been far too lenient all of the times Ten has been late paying his rent, but also because this is what Ten ran away for. His rights, all dogs’ rights. 

It was what he left Johnny for, what he traded his luxury for: rights, and owning his own life.

Ten is more than aware that he isn’t doing enough, that printing out Yuta’s flyers is the least he can do. He’s just so tired, constantly. Being brought up in a laboratory, and then spending years in the lap of a rich CEO has gifted him next to no experience doing anything at all for the things he received. Suddenly having to juggle a job is a shock, and engaging in a nonprofit organization on top of that would just not work. 

One day, he thinks to himself.

“One day” he says aloud, “I’ll join you. I’ll fight for our rights alongside you, and Yukhei, and Mark”

Yuta smiles softly at Ten and chuckles at his dramatic display. 

“You dun’ have to” he counters.

“But I want to” Ten insists, somewhat impatiently. “Once I’ve caught up on my bills, and have settled in and stuff I’ll… I’ll do it. I’ll be of help”

Yuta looks at Ten for a few moments before nodding.

“M’kay pup” he says and Ten bites back a protest at the half-pet name, half-slur. Yuta throws a glance at his wristwatch, a strange little machine built of a proper watch, a lighter and the pieces from a coffee grinder. The creation can show what time it is, as well as fire tiny objects with incredible precision and almost lethal speed. It serves as watch as much as self-defence, for the nights Yuta makes deals with sketchy people. 

Right now, the time shown by the thing seems to be of inconvenience to Yuta, for he frowns down at it. 

“Hey Ten” he says slowly, ominously. “Don’t you start work at 9?”

“Yeah” Ten responds, “what about it?”

Yuta flashes him his wristwatch, and Ten captures a glimpse of a faintly glowing clock-face with several trembling clock hands that do not tell any time units Ten is aware of. Ten cannot decipher it, and makes a face. 

“That’s in half an hour” Yuta clarifies and Ten feels as if he’s been dunked in ice cold water. 

“Shit!”

He sprints out of the kitchen, stumbling over the threshold and giving a laughing Yuta the finger over his shoulder. With his heart in his throat he haphazardly throws his clothes on, cursing himself for letting time run away. 

How could he not have noticed?

~

Johnny stares blankly down in his cup of coffee. 

The brown drink has stopped steaming long ago and is now swirling sadly, cold and rejected inside its expensive porcelain vessel. Somehow, Johnny finds himself making coffee every morning even though he rarely even tastes it; much less finishes an entire cup. It’s more out of habit than anything at this point. Even though Ten is no longer there to drink it, muscle memory can’t seem to let go of it just yet. 

The sky is a steely grey, the rain is pattering quietly against the windows. It’s sour, acidic to the point where it would hurt to be out in it. Johnny wonders if the climate was always this bad, or if things have gotten worse lately. 

He really can’t recall. 

Johnny shivers a little, his naked feet rubbing over each other. He feels so cold these days. Even when Jaehyun warms up his side of the bed, he wakes up freezing. It’s strange, he’s started cranking the heat up on the higher settings and yet he always feels cold. Cold and empty. Like he’s out in the rain when he’s inside. 

Johnny rubs his face tiredly. He’s got a meeting today, a meeting with the board members to prepare him for the grand reveal: a double reveal of his dad’s retirement and Johnny’s engagement to Jaehyun. 

Johnny always thought this day would arrive with immense anticipation on his side, but he feels completely numb. Suddenly, the things he’s worked for his entire life seem small and insignificant. The things that felt bigger than the world have appeared in a new light, and for the first time in his life Johnny has realised that the building he lives in is in fact built of steel and concrete. The building he’s never stepped foot out of, his entire world, is just a mass of metal and cement. His little oasis that he thinks he runs, when in fact a replacement would be found in mere seconds if Johnny were to disappear. 

Because seconds is all it takes for the entire world to fall apart. 

Seconds for someone to say they’re leaving. Months to make someone think they’ve changed their mind, but only seconds to shatter the illusion with an empty bed and missing clothes. Seconds for an unknown insider to dismantle the cameras.

Seconds for the entire universe, carefully built in glass, concrete and steel, to collapse.

Johnny’s fingers curl around the cup, squeezing it so hard that his knuckles whiten before he raises his arm. The coffee leaves a brown pool on the floor as the cup sails through the air, meeting the wall with a deafening crash. Shards of porcelain fly in every direction and Johnny flinches even though he was the one who threw the cup. 

He stares at the wall, stares at the brown liquid that’s dripping down the now ruined wallpaper. Feels the tears that similarly drip down his cheeks.

“Fuck” he whispers out into the nothingness. 

~

Mark sighs to himself as he stretches, hearing his back crack pleasantly. It’s satisfying for all about two seconds, before the cracking is replaced by a faint ache in his joints. Mark winces, sinking back into his mattress. With his increasing consciousness, pain starts creeping into his muscles and he is brutally reminded of yesterday’s work. 

He buries his face in his pillow, breathing hotly into the stiff fabric. 

“Stop watching me” he says with a muffled voice, because he knows that Yukhei is watching him. Just like every morning, without fail. Mark hears an amused chuckle that makes his stomach flip.

“I’m not allowed to watch my boyfriend sleep?”

Mark sits up, shivering as the blankets fall from his naked chest. His hair is sticking up in every direction and face is presumably swollen as hell as he glares at Yukhei. Yukhei is sitting beside him in the bed, back leaning against the headboard. His legs are crossed and his chest is bare, muscles rising and sinking rhythmically as he breathes. 

“That” Mark says sternly, jamming a finger into Yukhei’s rock hard abs, “is just creepy”

Yukhei’s grin just broadens and he snatches Mark’s arm with a vice-like grip on his wrist. Mark gives an embarrassing squeak and Yukhei immediately loosens his grip. 

“Well” Yukhei says slowly, letting his eyes appreciatively roam the expanse of skin that is on display for him. “You watch me when I shower. So I’d say we’re even”

Mark blushes furiously at the memory; the shower in Yuta’s flat lacks a curtain after someone accidentally tore it down when drunk, and it has happened more than once that Mark has not-so-accidentally let his eyes linger on Yukhei’s form while walking past him as he showers. 

With his incredible sense of hearing and smelling, it was of course only a matter of seconds before Mark was caught in the act. Mark cringes at the embarrassing memories and glares at Yukhei. 

“Shut up” he mutters before resolutely settling in Yukhei’s lap, arms linking around his upper body. Mark loves clinging to Yukhei, just hugging without actually doing anything. He loves pressing so close that he wonders if he’s crushing Yukei under his weight, loves feeling Yukhei’s solid warmth against his chest. When they breathe together, tangled up like that, Mark thinks that it’s better than sex and kissing and holding hands all together. 

But he’d never admit that, because it’s lame as all hell. 

Yukhei pats Mark over the head, as if Mark is the dog between the two of them, and Mark keens. 

Life on the lower levels in Sweden is vastly different from the life Mark lived in the top layer in Korea; his joints ache everyday from the less than work he does, and the food is strange, bland and salty. He wakes up at irregular hours, constantly tired from work as well as the things he does for Yuta’s nonprofit hybrid rights organisation. 

Yet, there’s something so incredibly satisfying with going to bed at night, feeling that sense of accomplishment sinking deep into his bones. It aches but in a good way, in a fulfilling way that is way better than the numbness that used to plague his life. For the first time in his life, Mark has a sense of purpose. He’s running towards something instead of in circles.

He presses his face deeper into Yukhei’s chest and breathes in his scent. The action earns him a chuckle. 

“What’re you so cuddly for?” Yukhei wonders, since Mark tends to be quite prickly in the morning these days. It’s a result of long work days and sharing a flat with an aspiring rockstar who has a penchant for practicing guitar in the middle of the night.

“Mm” Mark hums into Yukhei’s skin. “I can always stop if you’d rather have that”

Yukhei bellows a loud laugh, his stomach jumping under Mark’s head. 

“Not what I said” he says, sounding amused instead of upset as he, perhaps rightfully, should be. Mark wonders if Yukhei buries his annoyance with Mark’s behaviour, or if he genuinely just finds Mark cute when he’s whiny. If Yukhei coos at his bitchy remarks, or if he just tucks his anger away. If one day it’ll make its way out and blow up in Mark’s face.

Mark sighs contentedly into Yukhei’s warmth and tells himself that in the future he’ll be nicer to Yukhei. He isn’t the only one who has a lot on his plate. 

As if hearing Mark’s thoughts, Yukhei’s stomach rumbles underneath him. Mark smiles a little. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, pressing a light kiss to the skin presented to him. It makes Yukhei squirm a bit. 

“No I’m fine” Yukhei lies smoothly. “We can sleep more if you’re tired”

Mark would like to sleep at least a little more, since it’s rare to have days off, and it is with difficulty he swallows down a ‘thank you’, choosing to instead put Yukhei first.    
“No, let's have breakfast” Mark decides. “I was getting hungry anyways”

He wasn’t, but as Yukhei smiles widely at him Mark decides that Yukhei doesn’t need to know everything. 

“Cool” Yukhei replies, still beaming. “Sicheng went out to buy groceries earlier when you were sleeping, so there should be something for us to eat”

Mark nods. 

“Good morning?” he guesses, and Yukhei laughs while shaking his head. 

“Nope” he says with a glee that contradicts his words. “He and Yuta got into a fight first thing they did”

Mark winces. Yuta and Sicheng are both (aspiring) rock stars, punks, and they love accordingly. Everyday the apartment is rattled either by slamming doors or banging bed frames. Sicheng isn’t the first conquest Mark has encountered since moving in, and he secretly wonders when the chinese man will be replaced with someone new. He’d never tell Yuta about his musings of course, it’s too much of an insult. Yuta is neither a slut nor emotionless; he simply lacks romantic attachment, or at least chooses not to prioritise it. 

Mark doesn’t understand him. 

“Should have known” he sighs. “Has Ten gone to work?”

Yukhei hums in response. 

“Yeah” he says, yawning. When his mouth opens that wide Mark can see the rows of sturdy canines, glinting sharply in the morning light. “His boy-toy for the weekend left before he’d even woken up”

Mark scrunches up his nose.

“Ew” he says, not needing to hear anything about Ten’s escapades this morning. Or ever, for that matter. 

Yukhei solemnly nods in agreement

“Ew” he parrots. “Be glad you don’t have my hearing; I had to hear Ten wailing Johnny’s name the whole night”

The mention of his brother’s name sends a stab through Mark’s stomach and he shifts uncomfortably, not having anticipated neither the name nor the accompanied longing. As selfish as it might sound, Mark prefers to not think of Johnny these days. While things were awkward between them at times, Mark truly loved his brother more than anyone else in the world. More than his parents, more than himself, more than even Yukhei. 

He left for reasons that stretched just a little beyond being Yukhei’s boyfriend, a little beyond the inhumane way Jeno had been treated after his cancer had been discovered; a little beyond his beloved brother who’d go to the ends of earth for him. 

It hurt, leaving Johnny with the knowledge that they’re probably never meeting again and thus, Mark prefers to push any thought of Johnny to a deserted corner of his mind where he’ll never risk accidentally stumbling across it.

Where he doesn’t have to be reminded of the family he left. 

“Johnny?” he asks dumbly and Yukhei laughs a little, blissfully oblivious to Mark’s longing for his brother. 

“Poor guy” Yukhei says. “I think his name was like Gustav or something. He tried to correct Ten the first time he slipped up, but a drunk heartbroken man won’t listen so easily”

Mark hums and the emotionless tone he uses finally alerts Yukhei that everything isn’t as it should be. He glances down at Mark, frowning as he strokes him across the hair.    
“Are you okay?” he asks and Mark considers lying for all about two seconds before deciding it’s not worth it. He’s tired, physically and mentally, from the life he’s living. He can afford to unload at least a fraction of it. 

“I miss him” he quietly admits. He falls silent for a few minutes before speaking up again. “I don’t miss the life I lived, or the things he stands for, but I miss  _ him _ you know. The brother he was when he wasn’t busy with business trips, or berating me or… you know, being a CEO”

Yukhei nods slowly, just a beat too late for Mark to realise that Yukhei doesn’t know at all. He sighs. 

“No of course you don’t” he says, not unkindly but simply stating the truth. “But i… can you imagine it?”

Yukhei stares at him for a few moments, as if contemplating how he should answer Mark in the least painful way possible. Then he slowly shakes his head, his big eyes apologetic. 

“No” he says bluntly. “Sorry”

Mark swallows and nods. 

“It’s okay” he mutters because it is, truly. They’ve been over this before; Yukhei’s inability to feel empathy for people whose situations he can’t relate to is not his fault. It’s just the way he is and he can’t do anything about it. “I just… I’m a little sad. Because I miss Johnny”

Yukhei makes a small noise of affirmation. 

“And me mentioning Johnny made it worse?” he guesses, causing a smile to grace Mark’s features. 

“A little” he admits. “Reminded me of him”

Yukhei pouts, making Mark’s heart flutter dangerously. 

“I’m sorry” he says, because while he can’t imagine what it’s like in Mark’s shoes he always feels bad when he hurts him. 

Mark just shrugs, mumbling an apology when his shoulder knocks into Yukhei’s chin, making his teeth clack together. 

“It’s okay” he repeats, because once again, it is. It’s nothing either of them can help. There’s a miniscule lump in his throat, a sour knot of longing and Mark tries to swallow it because he just doesn’t want to deal with it right now. “Shall we go get breakfast?”   
His tone is forcibly light and overly gleeful. Mark thinks that Yukhei hears he’s faking it, must hear it, and prays that he won’t say anything about it and play along. 

“Sure” Yukhei says and Mark breathes an inaudible sigh of relief, untangling himself from the sheets. A couple of seconds, and he already feels a little better, pushing Johnny’s existence into the darker abysses of his consciousness. 

The floorboards are cold and creaking under his feet, sending little pinpricks of discomfort up his spine. He’s wearing an oversized T-shirt that belongs to Yukhei, and the hairs on his legs stand up in the cold air. He swirls around, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips at the way Yukhei’s eyes linger on his naked legs. 

“Baby” Mark says sultry, catching Yukhei’s attention. He’s unapologetic about having been caught openly ogling Mark and raises an eyebrow while smirking.

“What?” he asks, shifting where he’s sitting on the bed. His legs fall open a little, as if he’s assuming Mark is about to ask for a different kind of breakfast. 

Mark flutters with his eyelashes and lowers his voice to a seductive whisper.

“Last one to the kitchen does the dishes”

He dashes off, laughing as Yukhei swears loudly behind him.

~

Ten stares out into space as he pushes his hands further down his pockets, desperately trying to shield them from the biting cold. His breath is a white cloud in the freezing air, and he aimlessly walks on the spot in an attempt to regain some warmth. The snow is whirling around him, the icy wind ripping at his clothes and tearing at his hair. 

Ten pushes his chin down into his scarf, cursing the Swedish winter for perhaps the billionth time since he arrived in the country. The white flakes melt away the second they land on the heated railway but Ten has a feeling his train is still going to be late. 

The sky is dark, darker than any sky Ten had ever seen before arriving. In Korea, it was always light; the neon signs from the lower levels lit up the night, making it as bright as day and colouring everything in a technicolour hue. 

In Sweden, the issue with light pollution was deemed a top priority years ago, and artificial lighting is kept to the minimum. The sky is pitch black, and after months in the country it still amazes Ten how he can see stars with his own eyes. They’re not as bright or as many as in pictures, but they’re beautiful nonetheless. 

Ten sighs, shivers racking his body as a particularly hard gust of wind finds its way through his clothes.

No matter how pretty the winter stars are, they don’t quite measure up to the soothing warmth of the Korean spring sun. They most definitely don’t make the brutal winter worth it. 

As Ten stands there, quietly awaiting the midnight train home, a slight sting pierces through his left nipple. He lets out a small whimper, hand instinctively shooting out of his pocket to clutch at his chest. Then it is over, as suddenly as it began. Ten frowns and stares down at his chest, unbothered by how strange he must look.

The pain had been like a brief buzzing in his piercing, a strange little pinprick of discomfort. Ten wonders if his piercing has been infected, or if it was just a random, inexplicable moment of pain.

In the corner of his vision, Ten sees headlights light up the snow curtain, and the midnight train soundlessly glides up to the platform. It slows to a stop and Ten hurries to board, sighing in contentment as he steps into the warmth of the train. Any thoughts of the strange twinge of pain in his nipple evaporate as he sinks down into a soft seat, leaning his forehead against the cool window glass. The train starts and the rhythmical whirring noises from its machinery sends Ten into a zombie-like half-sleep.

He has soon forgotten everything that happened on the train station.

Under his shirt, his left piercing glints blue one last time before going out, once again looking like it always has. 

~

Johnny’s fingers tremble where they hover over the keys to his computer. 

His eyes are glued to the screen, wide as he watches, in partial disbelief, what he’s doing. The screen shows an animated picture with geometric shapes, a small blue dot pulsating within one of them.

Johnny breathes heavily in and out through his nose, trying to regain momentum. He watches as the small blue dot moves across the square it is inside of and lets out a shaky breath. Panic and guilt flows through his veins, intertwining with a toxic rush of absolute euphoria. 

Johnny zooms out, the rectangles and squares becoming smaller as a network of fine lines spreads out between them. Little letters spell out the street names Johnny won’t be able to pronounce anyways and his heart beats painfully hard at the name of the street with the blue dot. 

It’s surreal, seeing a little dot on a map and knowing that the little splash of colour is Ten. 

Johnny swallows and zooms in again, as close as he can. The dot is still now, and Johnny guesses he’s standing still, or has reached his destination. Raising a quivering hand, Johnny strokes the glass screen, much like he would have stroked Ten over the hair if he had been there. 

When Johnny bought the nipple piercings for Ten, it had been a safety precaution. He’d never intended to use them, and the mere knowledge that he could track his lover’s steps made Johnny sick to the stomach. Especially since Ten’s departure made it more than clear that Ten valued his freedom above all else.

Or at least, above a one-sided relationship Johnny thinks miserably as he watches the dot pulsate before moving again. 

He hears rustling in the hallway and the jingling of keys. 

“I’m going out for lunch babe” he hears Jaehyun call. Nice, polite, pleasant. 

“See you” Johnny responds, lacking the energy to feign enthusiasm. There’s a pause and for a moment Johnny thinks Jaehyun is going to say something else. Something to change everything, something to turn it all around.

Johnny prays he’ll just leave because there’s nothing to say, nothing to fucking  _ do _ . 

Jaehyun isn’tTen and Johnny wishes the older would stop trying to fill a standard he doesn’t even know he’s being compared to because he’ll never succeed. He’ll never be Ten.

Someone must have heeded Johnny’s prayer because the door opens and shuts, and Johnny breathes a sigh of relief before turning back to his computer. 

He types out a quick email to his assistant, asking her to book a ticket to Sweden as soon as she can. Price doesn’t matter. Yes, to Stockholm. Perfect. 

He looks at the blue dot, watches the way it pulses. The computer screen is warm under the pads of his fingers as he reaches out to once again touch. Johnny swallows drily, forcing down the knot that’s swelling in his throat. 

“I’m coming Ten” he promises quietly. 

“I’m coming to bring you home”

_ No matter what it takes. _

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Open ending ;)))) Truth be told, I wasn't actually lazy I just couldn't figure out another way to end it. Ten had to leave Johnny, but I couldn't see someone as prejudiced as Johnny simply letting him go as a fellow human of the same value. It would be like disregarding his entire character.   
> I hated how bad this epilogue turned out but it'll have to do. Maybe I'll rewrite it in the future, who knows. 
> 
> Currently working on two pieces, both following darker more disturbing themes. I already like them better than this, maybe I should just stick to horror in the future? Oh well.
> 
> Leave kudos and comments will ya? Kudos are the beans to the coffee of life <3  
> Till next time ~


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